#the way they all were cheering on her and all... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

treatbuckywkisses · 3 days ago

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oh dear... im having war flashbacks i can't read this chapter (I can and will) lucky for me I can jump to the next part to immediately cure my broken heart 😭😭

Recognising it immediately as Bucky’s bedroom, you do a double take, checking to see if he’s in the bed beside you. You find your stomach sinks in disappointment when you realise you’re alone. this is so real bc why am i in Bucky's bed and bucky isn't here too 🤨🤨🤨

Though from your last recollection you were still beside him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you became sleepy - you could only speculate that Bucky carried you to his bed after that. SHUTUP SHUTUP SHUT UP !!!!! this is everything they're so domestic:( He CARRIED HER TO BED?????? he's so in love

You offer to leave, so he can spend time alone with his family, but he’s adamant that you stay. Bucky’s sure he will only ever be able to find true contentment and happiness with you by his side, because when you’re elsewhere, there will always be a fragment of himself missing. ok so kiss already 🫶🏻

“She’s the one who invited us around today, she thought seeing your family would be just the spark you need.” And that’s when he thinks his heart stops completely. You organised this? Without him asking or prompting in any way - you simply did it because you thought it would cheer him up? You knew exactly what he needed, what would brighten his day and you were content not taking the credit as long as he was happy? The most perfect idiots in love (heavy emphasis on IDIOTS) affectionately))

The first person Bucky hugs as the credits roll is Sharon. Seeing him find solace in her arms is enough to push you to the edge - you need to get out of here. MY HEART:((((((( EM THIS IS SO PAINFUL 😖

From The moment you describe Sharon the build up is so incredible:( the jealousy and comparisons are soooo realistic. Being stuck at work of all places and having to maintain your cool while spiraling on the inside about something only you know is such a stab in the gut:( and the heart. The writing is so well i almost forgot that the feelings were mutual until the pov changed:( the feeling of unrequited love is sooo heavy and you unfortunately write it so well 😭😭😭

Maria is a bitch for that stunt and I will not be forgiving her she needs to be fired. Cut her down boys!

“No, Maria, I don’t want to do that, I’ve had enough of PR relationships.” You are all he wants. Bucky doesn’t want to have to hold hands, kiss and be excessively affectionate with someone else when it’s really you he wants to be able to do all those things, and more, with. He finds his palms are sweating at the mere thought of being able to do that with you, even if you don’t want that with him. Literally we can get her executed i know it

em you are such a genius who is so unfortunately for me good at angst :( this literally broke my heart for a second time😭😭😭 we have to stop this woman (em) bc how is she getting away with this (writing so beautifully????)

Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) (3)

Actor!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You’ve barely had time to recover from the controversial interview the night before, but it’s time for Bucky to step into the limelight yet again for his movie premiere.

Warnings: body insecurity and mention of reader sucking her stomach in, idiots in love, soft fluff, shy & insecure reader, jealousy, multiple POV switches, miscommunication, angst (yes, you read that right, though it’s me so you shouldn’t be surprised)

Word count: 4.6k (I may have gotten a little carried away)

A/N: photo credit to @justarandomgirly, banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Sunshine creeps through the partly closed curtains, the brightness flickering against your closed eyelids causing you to wake from your serene slumber.

The bed is as soft as a marshmallow, and smells divine, like good quality fabric softener and an undeniable musky scent, which, when surrounding you entirely in the sheets, pillows and large duvet, is like coming home.

You’re still drowsy when you spread yourself out like a starfish, stretching all your joints that have become stiff with sleep. Which is when your brain kicks into gear and realises, in fact, this bed is much too large and comfortable to be your own.

Your eyes shoot open, and what you see confirms your suspicions that this indeed isn’t your bed. You’re met with a luxurious sized room, a large projector screen hanging from the ceiling against the wall opposite the king size bed and a chaise longue over in the corner beside a full length mirror.

Recognising it immediately as Bucky’s bedroom, you do a double take, checking to see if he’s in the bed beside you. You find your stomach sinks in disappointment when you realise you’re alone.

A soft meowing coming from the door catches your attention, but before you can shift positions too get a better look, a fluffy white cat jumps onto the bed and curls up beside your head. Much like his dad, Alpine was a little stand-offish at first, but once he became familiar with your presence, he’s been the most affectionate cat you’ve ever met.

“Good morning, handsome.” You murmur whilst reaching out to scratch under his chin. Alpine purrs in contentment. “C’mon, let’s see if your dad’s awake.”

James Barnes is of course not awake, though that doesn’t surprise you. He always needs a good eight hours of shut-eye, otherwise he’s in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.

Now that you’re wide awake, the memories of the previous night come back to you. In an attempt to distract Bucky from the chaos which would have been erupting online, you stayed up until four in the morning reminiscing, watching old movies and eating all the junk food in this extensive pantry.

Though from your last recollection you were still beside him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you became sleepy - you could only speculate that Bucky carried you to his bed after that.

You lean against the doorframe of his guest bedroom, coffee mug in hand and Alpine brushing against your leg as you take a moment to watch Bucky sleep. He looks so peaceful, his lips pressed together in a smile. You can’t prevent your mind from wandering to what exactly he dreams about when he closes his eyes at night, and the hope inflating like a balloon in your stomach that perhaps you have something to do with the subconscious smile he’s expressing.

After the ordeal the night before, you hate to wake him from the tranquillity he’s found for himself, rouse him into a day where all the headlines, both good and bad, will be about him, where his name will be trending on twitter, and all the gossip columnists will be speculating about who he’s dating and why he needs a prosthetic arm.

You wish you could protect him from the scandalous storm, but you also know he has a lot to do in preparation for his movie premiere tonight. The part of you who is employed as his assistant wins out this time.

“Bucky…” You coo gently from the doorway, hesitant to encroach on his personal space while he’s unconscious. You are just an assistant after all. Once you see him stir but not fully wake, you call softly again. “Buck, it’s time to get up.”

“Not yet.” He mumbles in response, making no effort to move or open his eyes, let alone get out of bed. You chuckle at how adorable he is when he’s tired. Most people would consider it being grumpy, you actually find it endearing.

“I made coffee.” You know those are the magical words to get Bucky Barnes moving for the day. He finally opens his eyes and they instantly meet yours, all you can think about is being the first thing he sees every single morning for the rest of his life.

“Thanks.” He says with a soft smile. “I’ll be right out.”

* * *

Bucky is still getting dressed when the doorbell rings.

He’s not expecting anyone, but he’s sure it’s just Maria coming over with last minute directives concerning the premiere tonight. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine at the thought of stepping out in front of all those cameras again so soon after last night's debacle. It’s horrible timing really, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice but to attend, however reluctantly.

He’s buttoning up his shirt when he hears the distinctive sound of a toddler laughing, and he instantly knows who has paid him a visit.

When he exits his bedroom he’s met with four smiling faces. You, his darling sister, his best friend and their beautiful daughter.

“Buba!” She calls, not quite able to say his name yet.

“We thought we’d pop around after everything that happened last night. Much like her favourite uncle, Jamie has an infectious smile, and we think you could use some of that today.” Becks comments as she tickles her daughter's tummy, making her giggle. Bucky finds that contagious smile spreading over his features as his sister hands him Jamie, who, by the way she’s squirming in his grip, seems very happy to see her uncle.

He didn’t know it when he woke up this morning, but this is exactly what he needs to take his mind off yesterday’s disaster and his impending public appearance tonight.

The rest of the morning is filled with smiles, laughter and pure joy. His schedule has been so busy the last couple months with finishing the production of the movie in a different city and the press tour, that there’s a lot to catch up on in little Jamie’s life, as well as that of her parents.

“When are you going to tell her?” Becks asks in a low voice as the two of them make lunch in the kitchen, but Bucky can’t take his eyes off the scene playing out in the living room. He’s far too invested in watching you babble, laugh and play with his niece, the miracle his sister and best friend named after him, to care about anything else in the world.

“Tell her what?” Bucky asks, not paying enough awareness, even to his own sister, to figure out what she’s implying.

“That you’re in love with her.” This, however, does capture his attention and are perhaps the only words Becks could have uttered in order for him to take his focus from you.

“How do you know?”

“The way you look at her. Like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted and all you’ll ever need. Everything you’ve waited for.” Bucky chuckles, his sister knows him too well for her own good and he knows there’s no point in trying to deceive her - she also happens to be far too smart for her own good too.

“How come I could never see that between you and Stevie before you told me you loved each other?” It was the love found between his sister and best friend that made Bucky truly believe he too could find a love with someone that would transcend the remainder of his life. It may have taken him a couple years after that, but he then finally met you, and all fell into place.

“Because you were oblivious. Still are actually.” It’s now Becks’ turn to chuckle, but in a way that makes Bucky feel like he’s missing some vital piece of information.

“Why still?”

“Because you clearly don’t realise she’s in love with you too.” Bucky's entire world stops. All he can feel is his heart thumping so forcefully in his chest it might burst at any moment.

“You think- no, no she isn’t… is she?” Only in his fantasies do you return his affections. He’s dreamed, sincerely hoped, that bashful smile and twinkle in your eye when he says anything remotely flattering about you is an indication of something beyond friendship, but he’s never let himself fully believe that in fear of having his heart completely crushed.

Could you really love him?

“Buck, take it from someone who waited far too long to tell the person they loved that they indeed loved them - don’t wait. Stevie and I danced around it for years because he’s your best friend and I’m your sister. If you love her, tell her. It might just be the best decision you’ve ever made. It was for me.”

And with that Becks pats Bucky on the shoulder and leaves him with his l thoughts as she joins her daughter for feeding time.

Tonight. I’ll tell her tonight, Bucky pledges to himself with a new found surge of courage.

He just needs to get through the anxiety of this damn movie premiere without someone asking him why he’s missing a limb before he does.

* * *

After you bid farewell to the Rogers family, realisation sets in that it’s time to prepare for the premiere. You can tell by how tense Bucky’s shoulders are that he’s not looking forward to the occasion, which is a shame because he’s put so much time and effort into making an entertaining film for it to all be ruined by one bully interviewer.

And that’s what you attempt to remind him of, but to no avail. There’s a sharp, stabbing pain in your gut at the thought that, at least this time, you’re not enough to be able to cheer him up.

However begrudgingly, Bucky allows you to take him meet with his stylist for the final reveal of his attire for the night. After the award show season, he wants to go with a slightly different look, and Bucky seems to welcome the change.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, strutting out in a navy blue suit with a cummerbund, doing a performative twirl just for you which makes you chuckle.

“I much prefer when I get to help you with a tie.” Is what you say, because you’re sure if you try to articulate how gorgeous he looks you’ll end up admitting he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. The memory of helping you fix his tie last night flashes in your mind and your cheeks heat at simply the recollection of being that close to him.

“I’ll have to remind the stylist only suits with ties from now on.” Bucky smiles, his hands twitching in a way you hope indicates he wishes you were within proximity to touch. “Oh, I also have a surprise for you!”

He ducks back into the dressing area and for the minute it takes for him to return, excitement and suspense grow in your stomach. When Bucky comes back, he has a garment bag in his hands and a cheeky grin on his face.

“Try this on for me.” You try to protest, to object to him having spent any amount of money on you, but when he forces the garment into your arms and directs you to the dressing room with his large hands on your waist, you’re putty in his hands.

“Can you zip me up please?” You ask nervously, as you walk back out to model the gown for Bucky. You turn around and a wave of vulnerability overcomes you as he stares at your bare back. He slowly makes his way over to you, hands careful as he zips up the gown.

He looks at you in awe, but you’re sure it’s just because he’s used to seeing you in a pair of jeans and a band tee rather than an elegant dress.

“Bucky, I can’t accept this… this is far too beautiful and expensive.” You advise, though you're too busy admiring how the dress fits in the reflection of the mirror to fully appreciate the absolutely enamoured expression he’s regarding you with.

“Doll, it was made just for you, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste would you?” He says with a smile, unable to take his eyes off the dress and how perfectly it fits your body. He knows he’s going to have not so innocent dreams about it tonight.

“Thank you Buck, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“No, you’ve already done so much for me, more than you know, please, let me do this for you.” You don’t push the matter any further, but make sure to express your gratitude again before leaving for the premiere. After feeling so out of place during the recent award show season, it means the world that Bucky would do this for you.

You feel confident in your custom dress when you arrive, not only because the gown you’re wearing actually fits you properly, unlike every other second hand dress you’ve worn to important events, but because of the way Bucky looks at you while you’re wearing it.

But when you get separated, him moving to the red carpet along with all the other exquisitely dressed celebrities and notable attendees, and you with the behind the scenes help, the distance between you allows space for doubt and uncertainty to creep in.

You watch Bucky greet his co-star, the gorgeous Sharon Carter. You can’t deny it, she looks absolutely stunning. Perhaps more than stunning, if that’s possible. A woman out of a man’s sexual fantasy.

A fire red dress plunges down her front, a long slit in the side shows off her tall, slim legs and taught material over her abdomen and hips leaves no room for questioning how flat her stomach is and the desirable curves of her waist. It makes you suck your stomach in, suddenly overly insecure about how your body looks in your gown.

It’s hard to breathe watching Bucky looking at her with such a genuine smile and an eagerness in his eyes that you could only describe as attraction. And that even though they’re in front of flashing cameras and being recorded for the entire world to see, you can see that he’s not feigning a second of it.

Everyone in attendance is abuzz with comments of how dashing they both look, but more notable, what a breathtaking couple they make.

Bucky’s hand slides lower and rests on the curves of her waist, making jealousy spread through your body and stomach churn with insecurity.

The ache in your chest is the painful reminder that it is only in your imagination where he is yours, even if in every version of reality you will always be his.

From that moment on you find it difficult to truly concentrate on the importance of the occasion, or the anticipation of seeing a blockbuster film before the majority of the world. You’re too caught up in the self doubting thoughts bouncing around your head like in a pinball machine.

The movie itself goes by in a blur. You try your best to remind yourself that Bucky’s playing a fictional character, but it’s difficult to sit through two hours of the sexual tension between him and Sharon which ultimately ends in a steamy sex scene.

The chemistry between them is tangible and you recognise that spark in his eye on the big screen as the same way he looked at her on the red carpet. It’s easy to convince yourself that there will never be that electrifying magnetism between you two when not only have they shown it while filming a movie for six months, but also have exhibited it right in front of your eyes tonight.

By the time the movie ends, it feels like someone’s sitting on your chest, every breath agonising, even though you have no right to be jealous. He’s not yours, he’s your boss, he’s never vocalised any romantic interest in you and quite clearly he’s capable of doing much better than you anyway.

The first person Bucky hugs as the credits roll is Sharon. Seeing him find solace in her arms is enough to push you to the edge - you need to get out of here.

As the cast is preoccupied by all the recognition and acknowledgements, you take the window of opportunity to slip out the side door, needing the fresh air and space between the setting bringing you so much anxiety.

You think you’ve escaped inconspicuously until you hear a door closing behind you. The way Bucky’s voice calls your name is like a warm embrace in the cold, lonely night and compels you to stop.

“Where are you going?” He enquires as he catches up to you, a confused furrow in his brow.

“I’m sorry Bucky, it was all becoming a bit too much for me in there, I just want to head home.” The concern brimming in his eyes is enough to make your knees weak and for you to forget that you’re actually incredibly insecure and jealous right now. Bucky knows you don’t like crowds so that’s the excuse you’ll stick with.

“Doll, why didn’t you just tell me? Let me drive you.” He offers thoughtfully without any further questioning.

“Bucky this is your night, you should be celebrating with your friends not driving me anywhere.” Your last wish is to inconvenience him, that’s why you attempted to leave unnoticed, because in the back of your mind you knew Bucky’s benevolent enough to try something like this on a night that should instead be dedicated to him.

“I want to make sure you get home safe. Please.” He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes you intrinsically know you’ll never be able to say no to, those same eyes which regard you with a tenderness you’re only familiar with from him, that make you feel more beautiful and treasured than all of the precious gemstones money can buy.

“Okay.” It should perhaps concern you how quickly you yield to him, but the elated smile which forms on Bucky’s face as you do is reward enough for conceding so easily. That, and the knowledge that if he’s with you, he’s not with Sharon.

“Thank you!” He exclaims, as if you’re the one doing him the favour instead of the other way around. His large hands cup your face as he leans in and kisses your forehead, much too quickly for your liking because before you’re even able to savour the feel of his touch he’s pulling away and rather all you can feel is the cold absence of where his contact was the moment before.

Bucky can see the shiver which runs down your spine and shrugs off his jacket before you even have the opportunity to protest.

“Here, take this, can’t have you feeling cold.” He places the large jacket around you without hesitation, making sure the shoulders are aligned correctly before his hands smooth down your arms before finishing in your hands. His proximity makes you feel dizzy and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how sweaty your palms are. Bucky looks down at you, eyes briefly flickering down to your lips as he licks his own, before settling on your eyes. Your desire to kiss him is about to overrule every professional instinct you’re attempting to exert, when he opens his mouth to speak. “Just wait right here, I need to say a quick goodbye to some people but I’ll be right back to take you home. I promise.”

He squeezes your hands as reassurance and before you’re even able to process the glint in his tender eyes, he’s disappeared inside.

You pull his jacket tighter around you as the wind picks up, losing yourself in the same captivating musky scent you were surrounded by this morning in his bed sheets. It’s soothing and reminds you that it was in fact you who was comforting him last night when he broke down. Not Sharon. You.

“Are you heading off?” A familiar voice asks. You look up to find Maria taking a drag of a cigarette, and for a rationale you’re unsure of, your grip on Bucky’s jacket becomes tighter.

“Yeah, Bucky’s driving me home.” You say with a smile you can’t suppress.

“Oh darling, he can’t leave the celebrations yet. He’s the star of the show!” Maria takes one last puff of her cigarette before she stamps it out with her red bottom shoes you’re sure cost more than your month's rent.

“But he-”

“Besides, I’m sure he’d much rather go home with his girlfriend.” If her words don’t kill you first the nonchalant tone she uses to implode your entire world just might.

“Girlfriend?” You choke out.

“Sharon - I mean, you saw how cosy the two of them were today? They’ve gotten awfully close after all those long months playing love interests.” Simply hearing her name makes your heart clench and brings back the suffocating envy you were feeling mere minutes ago.

“I guess.” Is all you can manage to say.

“Look, darling, you’ve had a long couple days working, you should head home! There’s a taxi rank just around the corner.” Maria almost pushes you forward, but with how weak and pliant you’ve become with self doubt, your body puts up no resistance. You mumble a quick goodnight before your feet shuffle you the rest of the way to the cab stand.

There was a small part of you that hoped, perhaps even believed, that Bucky reciprocated the overwhelming feelings of love and devotion you held for him.

Over time you’ve needed to syphon off larger and larger segments of your heart to be able to store your ever growing feelings for him and all the memories you’d made with him you refused to forget, until you realised that small section had instead become your entire, overflowing heart.

And you pondered that when Bucky looked at you like he didn’t even want to blink in fear of missing out on a single second with you, perhaps that’s what he was doing too.

But why should you trust your instincts when they’ve led you astray so many times before? When all it’s resulted in was the pain of heartbreak and rejection.

Why would Bucky Barnes, renowned playboy and the biggest movie star in the world, be any different?

To your dismay, it turns out he isn’t.

* * *

Bucky leaves the celebration with a pep in his step.

He’s going to take you home and tell you how he feels.

He can’t help the nervous twisting of his stomach at the thought of baring his heart to you. Revealing that his soul has become intertwined with yours and you carry his fragile heart wherever you go, but that there’s simply no one else in the entire world he wants nor trusts more to have that privilege.

He’s about to reveal his most closely guarded secret, open his heart and expose his most vulnerable side to you with the prospect of complete rejection. And as much as it scares him half to death, he’s taking his opportunity. Becks believes you love him, and that’s about as sure as he can be.

When Bucky rounds the corner, Maria is standing alone exactly where he left you and his heart squeezes tightly with anxiety.

“Where is-”

“She left, said she needed to get home and didn’t want to wait for you.” Maria informs flatly, but Bucky can’t believe it. You’re always so patient, so accommodating to his insanely hectic schedule, had you really grown tired of waiting on him?

“She left?” Bucky can hear the distress in his own voice. He looks around, desperately confused, feeling an abyss being carved into his chest as the realisation of your departure sets in.

He told you to wait right here.

He promised he’d be right back.

He was going to tell you he loves you…

Even though Maria confirmed otherwise, part of him expects to see you standing there, wearing his jacket over your shoulders and that shy smile of yours which makes his stomach perpetually flip. But there is nothing aside from the faint music reverberating from inside, and a cool breeze that reminds him you’ve left with his jacket, and his heart, without so much as a goodbye.

“She’s off the clock Bucky, no wonder she wants to go do her own thing, she’s not getting paid to cater to your every whim 24 hours a day. Besides, this gives us a chance to chat. I have to talk to you about Sharon Carter.” Maria platonically drapes her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and directs him back inside without knowing her words are like a knife to his chest.

Of course you want to do your own thing, you have a life outside of being his assistant, you don’t want to be around him every second of every day working. That’s why you were in such a rush to leave tonight.

How could he be stupid to mistake you doing your job for anything more?

“What about Sharon?” He doesn’t want to deal with any work talk right now, all he wants is to go home and nurse his bruised heart by himself.

“I’ve talked with her management, and we’ve agreed to push the angle that you two are dating.”

“James, it’s already in motion. Everyone’s speculating about who you’re dating after last night's interview, so we pushed the story before the red carpet tonight to drum up buzz about the movie. It’s perfect timing!”

Dread settles in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. The next week will be filled with press for the new movie and he’s going to have to play the part of Sharon’s devoted boyfriend when all he craves is to be yours. This was a nightmare he desperately wanted to wake up from.

Two hearts, connected in a way even their owners don’t understand, go to sleep that night feeling more alone and unloved than ever before, when in actuality they both dream of the same thing: being with each other.

Part 4 > >

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Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) [Actor!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @sunnyjane4 @ravenodindottir @valhalla-kristin @learisa @crispysublimecupcake @iamfandomwasted @blackwidownat2814 @hailey-holt @rosepetalsinwinter @wifeofbarnes @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @vicmc624 @oliviagreen99 @gabshouse @raging-panda @priya212 @highlyintelligentblonde @buckyseddie @erynnnn @endless-summer-soldier @one-shot-plus-size @takeabreathdearh @its703pm @nefelibatansoul @theweekndhistorybook @albinotigerpython @goldenharrysworld @buckyslove1917 @supersanelyromantic @gothkitteh @ahrahrahraha @hopelessromantic423 @misshale21 @happeevacationday @farfromjustordinary @blackgirlbydna @mrsgweasley @readreblogfics @ashenc-blog @redbarn1995 @thewackywriter @missvelvetsstuff @broadwaybabe18 @buckys2lut @arny-montana @calirindo @justfic

#actor!bucky #the most painful part so far:(#ouch ouch ouch #but its so good #😭😭😭

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pbaz7 · 2 days ago

Text

ONE SHOT: HEAT CHECK

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content (whores 😒)

word count: 10.2k

A/N: This idea was not mine at all so all praise to the anon who sent me the prompt. I hope I was able to make your vision come to life lol. Let me know what you think! Very minimal proof reading this time so spare me

—————————————————————————

Paige had convinced herself she was fine, she was great actually. Really, she was.

Sure, her WNBA debut was one of the biggest moments of her life. Sure, she had spent the last 24 hours checking her phone, hoping for some last-minute miracle text from Azzi. But Azzi was in California for an endorsement meeting—one Paige knew was too important to miss.

It’s fine, she told herself again and again all day. She was now tugging at the hem of her warm-up shirt as she stood in the tunnel before tip-off. Azzi had sent her a long, sweet text a few hours ago, promising to watch the game no matter what. Paige could practically hear Azzi’s voice in the words, telling her she’d be amazing, that she’d be right there with her in spirit.

Still, it wasn’t the same.

She had wanted Azzi there. Needed her there, to fall into her arms after the game.

“Damn, P, you good?” Arike nudged her as they jogged back onto the court.

Paige blinked. “Yeah, why?”

“You just look... a little tense.”

Paige forced a grin. “It’s just the nerves.”

And it was. But it was also the fact that the one person she wanted to see in the stands—the only person whose opinion matters—wasn’t going to be there.

She glanced toward the front rows, taking in the packed arena. She couldn’t help but chuckle when she noticed some people.

Ice, KK, Sarah, Morgan and empty seats next to them surely for some other teammates.

They were one row back from the courtside seats, already settled in, talking amongst themselves. KK had her feet kicked out in front of her, looking completely at home, while Ice was scrolling through her phone. Sarah and Morgan were in conversation, but Paige could tell from the way Sarah was laughing that Morgan had just said something ridiculous.

A grin broke across Paige’s face.

But before she could even process it fully, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of player introductions.

She exhaled, shaking out her hands.

Okay. This was good.

Her people were here.

Well… almost all of them.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to focus.

The first half of the first quarter had been a blur. Paige had settled into the game quickly, feeding off the energy of the packed arena, her nerves long gone as she focused on what she did best. She hadn’t even thought too much about Azzi—not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t afford to.

Paige was sitting on the bench during a timeout when the crowd erupted out of nowhere, loud and excited, their cheers rising above the usual buzz of a timeout. Paige, confused, wiped her face with a towel and glanced at the jumbo screen, searching for whatever had them going crazy.

Paige swore her mouth went dry.

Azzi was sitting courtside, waving to the camera like she knew exactly what she was doing. Her hair was in goddess braids—her go-to summer look—but it wasn’t just the hair that caught Paige off guard. It was the entire outfit.

Cowboy hat. Cowboy boots. A very short jean skirt. And Paige’s #5 Dallas Wings jersey.

Azzi was chewing her gum lazily, her glossed lips moving slightly in the process. She turned her head toward the court, her gaze locking on Paige like she had been waiting for this exact moment. A slow, smirk tugged at her lips before she sent Paige a quick wink.

Paige felt her pulse stutter.

“Oh damn,” Lou murmured beside her, letting out a low whistle. “She looks hot.”

Paige exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she wiped her towel across her face again, as if that would somehow cool her down.

Azzi just kept smirking.

The timeout buzzer sounded, but Paige was still sitting there, gripping her towel, her mind catching up to the fact that Azzi had somehow made it. Had gone out of her way to be here. Had done it all without telling her.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or drag Azzi out of her seat as soon as the game was done.

One thing was for sure, though—she’d be thinking about that damn outfit for the rest of the game.

After the timeout, Paige tried to refocus, but it was impossible to ignore Azzi, sitting courtside, looking like that.

Paige was doing her best to stay locked in, but every time the ball left her hands, she felt a certain pair of brown eyes on her. When she drained a deep three from the wing, she knew exactly where to look.

Her gaze flickered to Azzi, who was already watching her, the corners of her lips tugging up in the smallest smile. She didn’t cheer, didn’t do anything flashy like their friends in the row behind her—just raised her eyebrows slightly, as if to say, that’s cute.

Paige fought back a smirk as she jogged back on defense.

She didn’t have time to get caught up in whatever game Azzi was playing. Paige and Arike were playing off of each other perfectly. Their ball movement was seamless, as if they had played together for years and the defense was scrambling to keep up. Every time the defense adjusted, they had another move ready, feeding off each other in a way that made it clear just how dangerous this duo was going to be in the future.

But then, late in the quarter, Paige had to inbound the ball—right in front of Azzi’s seat.

She swallowed, walking over as the cameras in the arena turned in their direction. The moment stretched between them, tension buzzing in the air as Paige took her place near the sideline.

Azzi, fully aware of the attention on them, just leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs as she sipped her drink through a straw. It was a simple action—calm, almost nonchalant—but Paige could smell her perfume, that warm vanilla scent mixed with something slightly sweet, and it had her clenching her jaw just a little tighter.

Azzi must have noticed because she glanced up at Paige through her lashes, her lips curving just slightly before she took another sip of her drink, covering her smirk behind the straw so the camera couldn’t see.

Paige exhaled through her nose, biting the inside of her cheek at the attention.

Azzi didn’t say a word.

She didn’t need to.

She already knew Paige was thinking about her.

The ref finally handed Paige the ball, and she shifted back into game mode, shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts as she got ready to make the inbound pass.

…

As soon as the final buzzer sounded and the win was officially in the books, Paige barely registered anything else. The moment she finished the postgame handshakes, she was already untucking her jersey, her feet moving on autopilot toward Azzi and her old teammates waiting courtside.

Azzi didn’t stand right away. She let Paige greet Ice, KK, Morgan, and Sarah first, all of them pulling her into hugs, hyping her up.

“You were hoopin’ tonight girly,” KK grinned, giving her a playful shove.

Paige smirked, bumping her back. “You know I had to put on a show for y’all.”

Ice threw an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s be real—you didn’t start playing for real until you saw Azzi.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t even argue.

Finally, she turned to Azzi.

Azzi stood, her smile soft and her eyes warm as Paige immediately pulled her into a tight hug resting her head on Azzi shoulder. Paige held on for a second longer than necessary, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume, her heart settling in a way it hadn’t all night.

When she finally pulled back, she let her eyes sweep over Azzi, her gaze dragging over the cowboy hat, the denim skirt, and—most importantly—her jersey over Azzi’s frame.

“You look good,” Paige mumbled, voice just low enough for only Azzi to hear.

Azzi’s lips curled into a smirk, her eyes flickering with something.

“I know.”

Paige let her eyes drag over Azzi, taking in every little detail. She licked her lips without thinking, fingers twitching slightly at her sides.

Azzi, catching the look immediately, gave her a warning glance. “Stop,” she mumbled, tilting her head slightly. “We’re in public, and there’s cameras everywhere.”

Paige barely blinked. “I don’t care,” she muttered, her voice a little low as she reached down and tugged discreetly at the hem of Azzi’s skirt. “When’d you get this?”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Yesterday.”

Before Paige could respond, Lou appeared, sliding into the conversation with a huge grin.

“Azzi, you made it!” Lou beamed, pulling Azzi into a hug.

Paige took the opportunity to really look at her again, her gaze tracing over Azzi’s outfit, the way the jersey fit her just right, the way her legs looked in that skirt, the way she still had that damn smirk on her face.

Azzi felt her staring.

And she definitely wasn’t imagining the way Paige’s fingers brushed the back of her thigh before she pulled her hand away.

For a second Paige spent some time with her family, hugging her mom tightly, dapping up her dad, and joking around with her brothers and sister. The excitement from her first W game in Dallas was still buzzing around them, but before she could fully settle in, one of the staff members called her over telling her they wanted her for a postgame interview.

Before heading back, she found Azzi again, stepping up close as she spoke. “I’ll have Lou bring you the keys in a second.”

Azzi just nodded, her eyes still holding that same glint from earlier.

But before Paige could walk away, a photographer approached them, camera in hand, gesturing toward them for a picture.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She wrapped an arm around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in close, and Azzi melted into her, tilting her head against Paige’s shoulder. Her hand rested lightly on Paige’s stomach, fingers grazing the fabric of her jersey, and Paige swore she could feel the warmth of her touch through it.

The camera flashed.

Azzi smirked.

Then, they adjusted, shifting slightly as the photographer snapped more pictures.

In one, Paige held Azzi a little tighter, her fingers pressing into the soft denim of Azzi’s skirt. In another, Azzi turned slightly, her hand now resting a little firmer against Paige’s stomach.

Without even thinking about it, they turned toward each other.

For a moment, it was just them.

Azzi smiled first—it was small, soft, just for Paige—and Paige couldn’t help but mirror it, her grip tightening slightly on Azzi’s waist.

Click.

Paige barely heard the sound of the camera going off, but she knew that shit was about to be everywhere.

…

After showering and changing in the locker room Paige felt the exhaustion in her body, but the second she stepped into the garage and saw her car, that tiredness melted away.

She couldn’t fully see Azzi through the tint, but she knew she was in there.

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she walked past the driver’s side, stopping at the passenger door instead. She opened it, reaching inside and gently pulling Azzi out.

Azzi blinked at her, momentarily confused, adjusting her balance as she placed her cowboy hat on the seat behind her. "What are you doing?"

Paige just smiled, shutting the door before settling her hands on Azzi’s waist. Her gaze dragged over Azzi’s face, then down to her outfit—the denim skirt showing off just enough to make Paige’s pulse stutter.

“You look so good, baby,” Paige mumbled.

Azzi gave a small smile as she wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck. She hummed, tilting her head slightly.

“I know you already told me P.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. The moment felt thick now—like all the tension from the night had finally caught up to them.

She leaned in, her lips hovering just above Azzi’s, “The correct response is thank you baby.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and exhaled softly, her back pressing against the car as she followed Paige’s lead, tilting her chin up just enough to close the space between them.

The kiss was deep and desperate—the kind that made up for lost time. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week, and while that might not have been long for most people, for them, it felt like forever.

Paige’s tongue slid into Azzi’s mouth, her grip tightening as her hands moved under Azzi’s skirt, squeezing her ass.

Azzi let out a small sound at the feeling, a mix between a gasp and a pleased hum, pulling Paige closer as their bodies pressed together against the car.

They stayed tangled in each other for a while enjoying the feeling of the others lips after so long, But then Paige started trailing kisses down Azzi’s jaw, then lower, her lips brushing against the soft parts of her neck.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, her hands coming up to Paige’s shoulders. “Alright, that’s enough ma’am.”

Paige mumbled against her skin, her voice muffled. “Come on, I miss you Az.”

Azzi smiled, tilting Paige’s chin up slightly so their eyes met. “I miss you too, baby, but we’re in public. And still in your place of work.”

Paige sighed dramatically, pulling back just enough to pout at her. “Fine.”

Azzi grinned before leaning in one last time, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s lips, then turned toward the car. Paige exhaled, shaking her head fondly, before opening the passenger door for her.

As Azzi stepped in, Paige smiled, landing a playful smack on her butt. Azzi shot her a look over her shoulder, but the small playful smile on her lips betrayed her.

Paige shut the door, chuckling to herself as she made her way around to the driver’s side.

As Paige pulled out of the garage, steering them toward the afterparty, she finally got to ask the question that had been sitting in the back of her mind all night.

“How the hell did you even make it to the game?”

Azzi smiled, leaning back in her seat. “I moved my meeting up.”

Paige furrowed her brows, sparing a glance at Azzi before turning her attention back to the road. “To what time? It was already early as hell.”

Azzi shrugged slightly, like it was nothing. “Six.”

Paige’s head snapped toward her so fast she nearly forgot she was driving. “Six A.M.?”

Azzi hummed in confirmation, barely reacting.

“Baby, that’s crazy,” Paige said, shaking her head, still processing.

Azzi just shrugged again, scrolling on her phone.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Did you close it?”

Azzi turned to her, giving her a look like she was almost offended by the question. “Of course.”

Paige grinned, reaching over and squeezing Azzi’s thigh. “That’s my girl.”

They kept talking as they drove, catching up even though they had talked every single day. Paige’s hand stayed resting on Azzi’s thigh, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over her skin as they talked.

Azzi didn’t mind. She let it stay there for most of the ride.

But then, at some point, Paige’s hand slid a little too high.

Azzi glanced at her, eyes narrowing. “Can you not?”

Paige didn’t even look at her, barely suppressing a smirk. “What?” she asked innocently, moving her pinky slightly just to prove a point.

Azzi scoffed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Paige smirked now, finally glancing at her. “I don’t know why you wore that skirt if you didn’t want me touching you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I wore it for you.”

Paige grinned, turning her focus back to the road. “Exactly. So let me be.”

Azzi huffed, shaking her head, but she didn’t bother fighting it.

As they drove through the city, Paige glanced over at Azzi, who was casually scrolling through her phone.

“You know,” she started, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, “if you would’ve told me you were coming, I probably would’ve played a lot better in the first few minutes of the game.”

Azzi grinned but didn’t look up. “And miss the chance to see your reaction when you noticed me on the jumbotron? Nah.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re rude.”

Azzi finally looked over at her, her smile softening. “You looked good out there, though baby I’m proud of you.”

Paige grinned, tilting her head. “Just good?”

Azzi sighed, playing along. “Fine. You looked great.”

“That’s more like it.” Paige reached over and squeezed Azzi’s thigh, then let her hand rest there again. “You staying with me for the whole month, right?”

Azzi nodded. “Yup. Figured I’d get tired of you after two weeks, but I’ll push through.”

Paige scoffed. “You love being around me.”

Azzi hummed. “You’re alright I guess.”

Paige gave her a look. “Bro please be for real.”

Azzi laughed, leaning back in her seat. “Okay, okay, yeah. I might love being around you all the time, just a little.”

Paige smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sound being the low hum of the car. After a moment, Paige gave Azzi’s thigh another squeeze before deciding to voice her thoughts.

“I want you to keep it on later,” she said, giving no context.

Azzi turned her head slowly, raising a brow. She didn’t need to ask what Paige meant—she knew.

“Who said you’re getting anything later?”

Paige shot her a quick look, deadpan. “Be for real Azzi.”

Azzi bit back a smile, letting the moment linger before finally sighing dramatically. “Whatever. I’ll think about it.”

Paige smirked as she pulled the car to a stop in front of the club. “Yeah, okay.”

As Paige handed her keys to the valet, she turned just in time to see Azzi stepping out of the car, holding down her skirt as she did so. Paige sighed, running a hand down her face.

“Nah,” she mumbled, eyes trailing down Azzi’s legs before flicking back up. “You’re not leaving my sight tonight.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled, reaching for Paige’s hand and interlacing their fingers. “You’re so dramatic.”

Paige just shook her head. “I’m deadass.”

They walked into the venue, the bass from the music vibrating through the floor as they entered. The afterparty was already in full swing, players, friends, family and staff scattered across the club. Neon lights flickered over the bar, where bottles gleamed and loud laughter echoed over the music.

Before they could make it too far inside, a familiar voice rang out.

“P!”

Paige barely had time to react before Arike, already a few shots in, threw an arm around her shoulder. Her grin was as she pulled Paige in.

“We’re about to go crazy this year,” Arike yelled. “Tonight’s just the start rook.”

Paige laughed, nodding along. “You’re not wrong.”

Arike squeezed her shoulder before letting her go, and moving back toward the dance floor.

Paige turned toward Azzi, who just gave her an amused look. “She’s so different from what I expected.”

Paige laughed. “Bro just give her three more shots, and she’s gonna pull out a bible and make them turn off the music.”

Azzi chuckled as Paige nodded toward the bar. “C’mon, I see Lou, Ice, and KK.”

They made their way over, spotting them leaning against the counter, drinks in hand. Ice was mid-sip when she noticed them, setting her drink down with a smile.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Ice teased, nudging KK. “And look at Paige bro.”

KK snorted, giving Azzi an exaggerated once-over. “I see why. Azzi, you tryna get someone in trouble tonight?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “I literally just got here, and y’all are already on me?”

Lou laughed, sipping her drink. “You did walk in looking like that, though. You knew what you were doing.”

Paige hummed, wrapping an arm loosely around Azzi’s waist. “Exactly what I’ve been saying.”

Azzi just shook her head, leaning into Paige slightly. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Lou raised her glass. “To another season and all of Paige’s sanity being tested.”

…

Paige and Azzi leaned against the bar, the bass of the music making the floor vibrate as they waited for another shot to accompany the drink they already had. The club was packed now. Paige had one arm draped loosely around Azzi’s waist, absentmindedly tracing her thumb over the fabric of her jersey as she barely listened to what Ice, KK, and Lou were saying.

Azzi took a slow sip from her glass, her lips wrapping around the straw before smirking at Paige. “You gonna keep staring at me, or you actually gonna drink yours?”

Paige huffed a laugh, taking a sip, eyes still on Azzi. “Hard not to when you’re wearing that.” Her hand brushed against the hem of Azzi’s short denim skirt, making Azzi arch an eyebrow at her.

“You’re horny,” Azzi murmured, leaning in just slightly so only Paige could hear.

Paige just grinned, shrugging. “I’ve been told.”

Their easy back-and-forth continued as they downed a couple of drinks, the warmth settling in and loosening them up. They weren’t being overly affectionate—just hanging out, laughing with their friends, letting the night settle around them. At one point, Lou challenged them to a ridiculous game of guessing random people’s professions just based on their outfits, and Paige and Azzi found themselves doubled over when KK confidently said some guy was a lawyer, only for him to turn around wearing a DJ staff badge.

Just as Paige was finishing her drink, she noticed Arike waving her over from a section across the club. With a smirk, she turned to Azzi, reaching up to flick the brim of her cowboy hat playfully.

“I’ll be right back, beautiful,” she murmured, her voice just low enough for Azzi to feel it more than hear it.

Azzi tilted her head. “Don’t take too long,” she said simply, sipping her drink again as Paige walked away.

A few minutes after Paige left Azzi was mid-sip of her drink when she felt someone slide up next to her at the bar. She barely had time to set her glass down before she heard a voice— one with a beach accent and distinctly unfamiliar.

“Hi, I’m Sevgi, but most people call me Sev. Or Gi.”

Azzi turned slightly, taking in the dark-haired woman beside her. Sevgi’s accent was thick, her posture confident as she leaned against the bar. Azzi, assuming she was just introducing herself as one of Paige’s new teammates, smiled politely and shook her hand.

“Azzi.”

Sevgi held her gaze, her lips forming into a smile. “You’re beautiful, Azzi.”

Azzi almost choked on her drink. She set it down quickly, grabbing a napkin to wipe her lips before forcing a tight smile. “Uh… thanks.”

Sevgi’s expression remained relaxed, like she hadn’t just casually caught Azzi off guard. “I’ve watched a few UConn games but I haven’t seen you around before. Did you move to Dallas?”

Azzi shook her head, sipping her drink again. “No, I don’t live here yet. I’m just visiting Paige for a while before going back to school.”

Sevgi’s gaze flickering toward where Paige was standing talking to Arike before settling back on Azzi. “Ah, so you’re here for Paige?” She hummed as if processing something. “Seems like a lot of people are, they love her already around here.”

Azzi simply hummed, confused by the comment. Suddenly wondering where the hell Ice and KK disappeared to.

Sevgi took another sip of her drink before smiling. “Paige Bueckers. One of the best to ever do it they say.” Her eyes flickered over Azzi’s face, her voice dropping just slightly. “I think she’s even luckier than I realized.”

Azzi’s brows lifted, her body tensing slightly as she finally clocked what was happening.

Before she could fully react, Sevgi leaned in just a fraction, lowering her voice like she was letting Azzi in on a secret. “I have a thing for shooters,” she said, her tone light but suggestive. “Especially ones with eyes like yours.”

Azzi, not really knowing how to navigate this, just says “Huh….”

Sevgi grinned, her fingers lightly drumming against the bar. “Mm. There’s something about precision, about the way a shooter locks in. So much focus, so much control…” Her voice dipped just slightly as she added, “It’s very attractive.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, half amused by the attempt, half uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure if Sevgi just had a naturally flirtatious personality or if she genuinely had no idea that Azzi was very much taken.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something—anything to shift the conversation—she felt an all-too-familiar presence beside her.

Paige, who had returned from talking to Arike and was now standing between them with an unreadable expression.

Azzi barely had time to react to her presence before Paige’s hand was resting on the back of her neck.

“You’re a little close there, Gi, no?” Paige’s voice was light, but there was a slight edge beneath it that Azzi caught.

Sevgi turned her attention to Paige, offering a smooth smile. “I was just getting to know your—” she glanced at Azzi as if choosing her words carefully, “—your beautiful friend from UConn.”

Paige’s jaw tensed slightly, but she didn’t let it show, her fingers subtly tightening against Azzi’s neck. “Yeah? Well, my beautiful girlfriend doesn’t need any new friends tonight.”

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a smirk.

Sevgi’s smile didn’t waver. “You know rook, in my culture, we don’t limit beautiful women to just one.”

Paige’s jaw tightened at that comment. “Look, Gi,” she said, her voice calm, “I really don’t know you that well yet, so I don’t know if you’re trying to be disrespectful or not, but I really hope that’s not the case.”

Sevgi held her gaze for a moment longer before raising her hands in mock surrender. “No disrespect. Just an observation is all.”

Paige didn’t blink. “Yeah? Well, here’s another one since we’re giving out observations—you’re standing too close to my girl.”

Sevgi exhaled, taking a small step back. “Noted.” She gave Azzi one last lingering look before saying, “Still… you’re stunning.”

Paige let out a sharp breath, her patience wearing thin.

Azzi, deciding to cut things off before Paige really lost her temper, gave Sevgi a polite but firm smile. “Appreciate it, but I’m good where I’m at. Really.”

Sevgi smiled but didn’t push further. “Fair enough.” She grabbed her drink and disappeared back into the crowd.

As soon as Sevgi was gone, Paige turned fully toward Azzi. Her jaw was still tight, but her eyes softened slightly as she took in Azzi’s amused expression.

“I leave you alone for two seconds,” Paige muttered, shaking her head.

Azzi laughed, looping her arms around Paige’s neck and pulling her in closer. “Not my fault I look good.”

Paige huffed, her fingers tugging at the hem of Azzi’s skirt. “It’s because of the skirt.”

Azzi let out another laugh, glancing down. “You can barely see my skirt—I’m sitting down.”

Paige hugged her tighter, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she said, “Exactly. It’s too short.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You weren’t saying that when you were grabbing my ass in the garage.”

Paige’s expression flickered for a moment before a smile spread across her lips. “Mmm… you make a good point.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige pulled her up from her seat, and palmed her ass with both hands, squeezing firmly.

Azzi gasped, half-laughing. “Paige—”

“What?” Paige murmured, leaning in, voice dropping lower. “You were making a good point baby.”

Azzi exhaled, biting her lip as she shook her head. “You’re a perv.”

Paige rolled her eyes, completely unbothered. “No, I’m not. You’re my girl.”

Azzi huffed like she was annoyed, but the way she wrapped her arms fully around Paige’s head said otherwise. She pulled Paige in, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Paige responds immediately, squeezing her closer. The music and noise of the club faded into the background, the warmth of the moment making Azzi’s fingers tighten slightly in Paige’s hair.

Paige gave Azzi’s butt another squeeze, deepening the kiss, but just as she was about to take it a step further, Azzi mumbled against her lips, “I’m bored.”

Paige pulled back just enough to look at her. “Kissing me is boring now?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, fingers still playing with the hairs at the back of Paige’s neck. “No, us being here is boring.”

Paige smirked. “Oh yeah? What you wanna do then?”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering over Paige’s face as she tugged at the jersey she was wearing. “Go home,” she murmured. “Maybe show you how much I miss you… wear this for you like you want me to.”

Paige let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah come on, we’re leaving.”

The drive back to Paige’s apartment was quiet, the soft hum of music playing in the background as the Dallas city lights blurred past them. Azzi’s hand rested lightly over Paige’s, which had been sitting comfortably on her thigh since they got in the car. Neither of them had spoken much.

Paige was focused on the road, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against Azzi’s skin, but then she felt Azzi’s hand shifting, guiding Paige’s palm higher up her thigh. Paige’s grip instinctively tightened for a brief second before she shot her a look.

“Azzi,” she warned.

Azzi just hummed, acting innocent as she leaned over the center console, playing with the short hairs at the back of Paige’s neck. Paige swallowed hard, keeping her eyes locked on the road.

“You’re gonna make me crash,” Paige muttered, her jaw clenching slightly.

Azzi smirked, watching her with that look in her eyes. “Then keep your eyes on the road, baby.” Her fingers still tracing over Paige’s skin, her nails lightly scratching at the nape of her neck just to make her shiver.

Paige exhaled through her nose, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her spine, but then she felt Azzi shift closer, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to the side of her neck.

“Azzi.” This time, her voice was rougher.

“Hmm?” Azzi responded innocently, her lips grazing against her again.

Paige let out a slow breath through her nose, gripping the wheel a little tighter as she cast a quick glance at Azzi. A smirk was playing on her lips like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“What you doing, baby?” Paige asked, her voice lower now.

Azzi’s lips brushed against her jaw again, just barely. “I just miss you,” she murmured, her fingers still tracing soft patterns at the back of Paige’s neck.

Paige exhaled sharply but didn’t stop her. “You’re making it hard to drive, pretty girl.”

Azzi leaned back slightly, but not enough to fully retreat, still draped over the center console. “You’ve done more while you were driving before.”

Paige shot her another side glance, smirking now. “I remember. You couldn’t wait until we got home.”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Exactly. I had on jeans if I remember correctly.”

Paige swallowed, her jaw tightening as the memory rushed back to her. She nodded, gripping the wheel a little harder.

Azzi’s gaze flickered down to Paige’s hands before she spoke again, her voice quieter, almost too casual for what she was implying. “I have on a skirt now.”

Paige’s knuckles went white on the wheel.

Paige glanced at her, eyes flickering over her face before settling on her lips for just a second too long. “You drunk or something, baby?” she asked.

Azzi met her gaze. “No,” she said simply. “I told you, I just miss you.” She shifted slightly, her nails tracing absentmindedly over the back of Paige’s hand. “You think I dressed like this for fun?”

Paige swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling dry. Without thinking, she moved her hand up, her pinky brushing lightly against Azzi’s inner thigh.

Azzi let out the softest sigh, barely audible over the low hum of the music. She didn’t say anything, just leaned back and watched her.

Paige exhaled, shaking her head as a slow smirk spread across her lips. “You really tryna kill me tonight, huh?”

Azzi smiled, leaning her head back against the seat. “No. Not yet.”

Paige’s pinky traced slow, deliberate circles against Azzi’s underwear. She kept her eyes on the road, but the slight smile on her lips told Azzi she was enjoying this.

Azzi exhaled softly, shifting just a little, her breath hitching when Paige’s fingers pressed firmer for half a second before retreating, barely there.

Paige hummed. “You were saying?” she mused.

Azzi bit her lip, eyes dark as she glanced over at Paige. “I said… not yet.” Her voice was breathier now, betraying the effect Paige’s teasing was having on her.

Paige chuckled under her breath, her fingers tracing lazily along Azzi’s center, never quite moving where Azzi wanted but never pulling away either. Every so often, her knuckles would graze a little firmer, making Azzi’s legs tense slightly before relaxing again.

Azzi let out another quiet sigh, her fingers curling against the seat. “You’re playing too much,” she said, her voice laced with some frustration.

Paige turned her head just enough to meet her gaze, her smile growing. “Oh, now I’m the one playing?” She pressed her fingers a little more firmly, dragging them slowly along, savoring the way Azzi’s breath hitched again.

Azzi inhaled sharply, her whole body tensing in anticipation the moment Paige’s hand slipped beneath her underwear. Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft breath escaping her lips as she waited.

But then, suddenly, the warmth of Paige’s touch was gone completely.

Azzi’s eyes snapped open just in time to catch Paige lifting her thumb to her mouth, sucking on it.

Paige’s expression was casual, her eyes locked on the road, one hand steady on the wheel.

Azzi let out a sharp exhale, half frustration, half disbelief. “You’re such an asshole.”

Paige hummed around her thumb before popping it out with a smirk. “Oh, now I’m an asshole?” She flicked her gaze over to Azzi, blue eyes sparkling. “But I thought you missed me?”

Azzi clenched her jaw, narrowing her eyes as she shifted in her seat. “I do.” Her voice was firm, but there was a slight pout forming on her lips.

Paige chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “Then be patient, baby.” Her hand returned to Azzi’s thigh, but this time, it was just resting there.

Azzi huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re mean.”

Paige fired back instantly, her smile only growing. “And you’re a brat.”

Azzi scoffed, shifting in her seat again so she was leaning away from Paige. “Maybe if you weren’t being so mean, I wouldn’t have to be.”

Paige let out a chuckle, squeezing Azzi’s thigh before pulling back again, just to be a tease. “Oh, is that how it works? So it’s my fault?”

Azzi turned her head to look at her. “Obviously.”

Paige bit back a grin, keeping her eyes on the road. “Sounds like someone needs to learn the word patience.”

Azzi let out a scoff. “I think someone needs to stop talking and drive faster.”

Paige hummed in amusement. “Oh, now you want me to focus on driving?” She shot Azzi a quick glance, lifting a brow. “Wasn’t that an issue, like, five minutes ago?”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “That was different.”

Paige laughed softly, reaching over to tug at the hem of Azzi’s jersey, pulling her slightly closer. “Mm. Convenient.”

Azzi let out a quiet groan, flopping back in her seat. “I hate you.”

Paige just chuckled again, squeezing Azzi’s thigh one last time before finally giving in and stepping on the gas just a little harder.

As Paige pulled into the garage, she barely had the car in park before Azzi was already unbuckling her seatbelt and pushing the door open.

Paige watched in amusement as Azzi slipped out, her long legs moving toward the house without so much as a glance back. Paige let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she turned off the engine.

By the time she made it inside, Azzi was by the entryway, bent down as she worked on taking off her cowboy boots. Paige let her eyes roam, taking in the way Azzi’s skirt rode up completely with the position, exposing more of her toned legs. Smirking, Paige stepped up behind her, hands easily finding her hips before she rolled her hips forward, playfully pressing into her.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Paige murmured.

Azzi sucked in a sharp breath before immediately shoving her off, making Paige stumble back a step. She stood up, kicking off her boots without sparing Paige a glance before walking deeper into the house.

Paige chuckled, licking her lips as she followed. “Oh, so now you’re ignoring me?”

Azzi still didn’t say anything.

Paige smirked, enjoying this way too much. “Why you being like that, baby? I thought you missed me?”

Azzi exhaled, her hands clenching briefly at her sides, but she kept moving.

Paige trailed behind her grinning. “Mmm. What happened to all that talk in the car?”

Just as she reached the bedroom door, Azzi stopped. She turned her head slightly, finally meeting Paige’s gaze.

Paige smirked at that, stepping into the bedroom with an easy confidence. Azzi followed closely behind, her eyes immediately catching on something new.

“When’d you get that?” Azzi asked, nodding toward the large mirror now positioned perfectly in the room.

Paige’s smile grew, as she leaned casually against the dresser. “Got here yesterday.”

Azzi hummed, her gaze flicking between the mirror and the bed, taking in the angle, mentally mapping it out. Her lips curved slightly. “I like it.”

Paige pushed off the dresser, stepping closer until she was right in front of Azzi, tilting her chin up.

“That’s why I got it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and tried to walk away again, but Paige was quicker, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back with little effort.

"Stop being a brat.”

Azzi just looked at her, lips pressed together, refusing to respond. Paige wasn’t fazed. Instead, she tugged her closer by the waist, dipping her head to press a kiss to Azzi’s neck.

"Let me get rid of that attitude for you," Paige whispered, her lips dragging against Azzi’s skin.

For a moment, Azzi’s resolve wavered. Her breath caught, and she instinctively tilted her head to the side, granting Paige more access. But just as quickly, she remembered why she was mad. With a sharp exhale, she planted her hands on Paige’s shoulders and shoved her back—not hard enough to truly push her away, but enough to make a point.

Paige only laughed, her tongue brushing over her bottom lip as she grinned. "Oh, you’re really mad, huh?"

“Yes you called me desperate.”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “Bro, no I didn’t.”

Azzi’s glare was instant. “Don’t ‘bro’ me.”

Paige sighed, pulling Azzi closer again, her hands resting firmly on her waist. “Baby, I did not call you desperate.”

Azzi didn’t budge. “You basically did.”

Paige huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head before dipping down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses against Azzi’s neck. “I didn’t,” she muttered between kisses. “But even if I did, it doesn’t matter.” Her lips traveled lower. “You know I love it when you’re like that for me.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her body betraying her as her head tilted again, granting Paige more access. But she didn’t fully give in—her hands remained stubbornly at her sides, her posture still carrying the weight of her petty grudge.

Paige smirked against her skin, nipping just lightly before pulling back. “What I gotta do to make it up to you, baby?”

Azzi’s lips finally formed a smile at that, looking at her. “I wanna go back to the car.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “We have a whole house, baby. Why you wanna go to the car?”

Azzi shrugged, but there was a glint in her eyes. “Because we haven’t fucked in your new car yet.” She let that sink in before adding casually, “And it’s bigger than your Jeep.”

Paige scoffed, about to respond when Azzi leaned in close, her breath warm against her ear.

“And,” Azzi murmured, right before biting down softly on Paige’s earlobe, “you can’t run from me in the car.”

Paige swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief second as she licked her lips. She nodded—maybe a little too eagerly—before mumbling, “Okay… yeah, we can go to the car. Whatever you want.”

Azzi beamed at that, turning on her heel and heading toward the closet immediately. Paige watched her, smirking when she saw the first thing Azzi grabbed. But then her smirk dropped completely when she saw the second.

Her brow furrowed. “What’s that for?”

Azzi barely glanced at her as she responded, “You know what it’s for.”

Paige’s stomach tightened as she watched Azzi casually walk out of the bedroom, clearly expecting her to follow. She hesitated for a second before trailing behind her, saying, “I almost died last time we tried that.”

Azzi threw a smile over her shoulder. “Well, you shouldn’t have called me desperate.”

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “She’s about to kill me,” she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head as she followed Azzi out of the room, through the house, and straight into the garage.

Paige got in the car first pushing both front seats forward to create more space. She moved with ease, but there was still an underlying tension in her movements—anticipation low in her stomach as she adjusted the seats. Once she was satisfied, she leaned back, expecting Azzi to climb onto her lap like she always did.

But instead, Azzi leaned forward, connecting her phone to the car’s Bluetooth. Paige watched her, eyebrow raising slightly as Azzi scrolled through her playlists, carefully ensuring the engine wasn’t actually on before the speakers filled the car.

Paige exhaled through her nose, smirking as she rested her hands on her thighs. “You settin’ the mood or something?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She took her time, adjusting the volume, tilting her head as if she was testing how the music sounded in the space. Then, finally, she settled in the back seat, straddling Paige hips, her hands finding their place on Paige’s shoulders.

Paige’s smile grew as her hands settled on Azzi’s waist. “That a yes?” she teased.

Azzi smiled, leaning in so her lips just barely brushed Paige’s. “Stop talking.”

Paige nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, ma’am.”

Azzi didn’t give her a chance to add anything else before she closed the distance, her lips molding against Paige’s in a kiss that she led with confidence. Her tongue slipped past Paige’s lips, exploring her mouth like she owned it, and Paige let her—let her take, let her have, let her do whatever she wanted.

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s butt, pulling her in until there was nothing between them, her fingers flexing underneath Azzi’s skirt.

It was always a miracle how long they could stay like this—kissing and learning each other over and over again—until their lips were almost raw and they were both burning from the inside out.

Paige was completely under Azzi’s control, gripping her like she was afraid to let go, as Azzi’s hand wrapped securely around her neck. Every time Paige tried to shift, to gain a little more, Azzi only tightened her grip, keeping her where she wanted.

When Paige finally broke away from the kiss, her breathing was uneven and her lips were tingling. “Baby, please.”

Azzi looked down at her. “Please what?”

Paige groaned, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back in frustration. “I need something.”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head as if she was considering it . “Mm.” She leaned in, brushing her lips over Paige’s jawline before trailing down to her neck.

Azzi smiled, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck, tugging just enough to make Paige suck in a breath. She moved up, her lips barely grazing the shell of Paige’s ear as she whispered, “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Paige let out a shaky exhale, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s thighs before she murmured, “That’s the problem, baby.”

She tried to slide her hands up, reaching for the hem of Azzi’s skirt, but before she could make contact, Azzi caught her wrists, intertwining their fingers as she pinned them down. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

Paige sighed, tightening her jaw as she let her head fall back against the seat in surrender. She was burning with impatience, but she knew better than to fight Azzi on this—not when she was playing her little game.

Azzi took full advantage of the position, tilting her head to press slow, open-mouthed kisses down the side of Paige’s throat, occasionally nipping at her skin just to feel the way Paige shuddered beneath her. Paige sighed heavily, groaning here and there, murmuring pleas in between sharp intakes of breath. But every time she tried to coax Azzi into more, Azzi only chuckled against her skin, whispering smug remarks in return.

“You getting desperate, baby?”

Paige groaned. “Azzi—”

Azzi licked a long trail up her neck. “Mmm. You’re cute when you beg P.”

Paige scoffed. “I’m not begging.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, tilting her head. Then she smirked. “You don’t want me?”

Paige swallowed hard, her hands twitching where Azzi still had them pinned. “Course I do.”

Azzi hummed in satisfaction before whispering, “Then beg for it.” She bit down a little harsher this time, drawing a sharp inhale from Paige before soothing the spot with her tongue.

Paige held firm, refusing to give in so easily. She just let Azzi work her way along her neck knowing exactly how to unravel her. But Azzi knew this little front of Paige’s all too well. Knew the stubbornness. Knew exactly how to break it.

So she shifted, pressing her hips down just a little more, her breath fanning against Paige’s ear as she let out the softest moan.

Just like that, Paige cracked. “Fuck—Az, please, baby.”

Azzi smiled. “Please what, Paige?”

Paige groaned, her voice rough. “Lemme get you right.”

Azzi chuckled at that, pulling back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze. “Oh? Is that what’s gonna happen?”

Paige only hummed in response, her hands finally breaking free to palm at Azzi’s butt, pulling her in closer.

Azzi just smiled down at Paige as her fingers worked at the buckle of Paige’s belt, taking her time, teasing her without any words. Paige just watched her, eyes hooded, a small grin tugging at her lips.

Azzi caught the expression and arched her eyebrow. “What are you smiling at?”

Paige exhaled a soft chuckle, tilting her head back slightly against the seat. “You look good.”

Azzi hummed at that, feigning nonchalance, but the way her lips curled told a different story. “Yeah?”

Paige’s eyes flicked between Azzi’s hands and her face, her grin widening just a little. “Yeah. Real good.”

Azzi shook her head, amused, but didn’t argue.

Once Paige’s belt was undone, Azzi slipped off her lap simply saying, “Take off your clothes,” as she began to unzip her own skirt.

Paige immediately obliges, tugging at her clothes, ripping them off as if they were on fire. Once they were off, she reaches for the harness silently praying Azzi doesn’t remember what else she grabbed.

Azzi chuckles at this, reaching over Paige to grab the small vibrator she had sitting there. She looks at Paige expectantly, not saying anything as she pushes it toward her.

Paige sighs as she takes it from Azzi’s hand and slides the vibrator into the slits of the harness, turning it on before she pulls the harness against herself, taking a sharp breath immediately at the feeling.

Once Paige was situated Azzi climbed back onto her lap, settling on her thighs first as she gathered her long braids, moving them to one side. Paige watched her, eyes hazy, the desire in her eyes unmistakable.

“Nah,” Paige murmured, voice rough. “You need to get on it now.”

Azzi chuckled softly, dragging the moment out just a little longer before she lifts her hips up and eases herself on top of Paige slowly, letting out a quiet sigh as she did.

Paige’s reaction was instant. Her head fell back against the seat, a deep groan escaping her lips. “Fuck baby,” she breathed, arms lifting to rest on the back of the headrests, fingers flexing as she tried to keep herself from reaching for Azzi knowing she wouldn’t last long if she did.

Azzi kept her eyes locked on Paige as she rolled her hips moving like she was putting on a performance just for her. A teasing smile on her lips as she watched Paige try not to unravel beneath her.

Paige’s head was still thrown back against the seat, arms stretched over the headrest like she was watching a show—but the longer Azzi moved, the harder it became for her to keep up the act. Her jaw tightened, eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed hard.

Azzi smirked at that. She leaned forward, grabbing Paige’s arms from the headrest and guiding them around her waist, forcing Paige to hold her. As soon as Paige’s hands found their place on Azzi’s hips, Azzi tangled her fingers into Paige’s hair, tugging gently as she whispered near her ear, “You’re supposed to be watching, baby.”

A low moan escaped Paige’s lips. “I can’t, baby.”

Azzi hummed in amusement, her movements never faltering as her own breath got a little uneven. “Why not?”

Paige sucked in a breath, struggling for words. “Because…”

Azzi chuckled, her breath warm against Paige’s ear. “That’s not a full sentence,” she teased, letting a soft gasp slip as she pressed herself closer.

Paige groaned, tightening her grip on Azzi’s waist as she felt the deliberate push against her. Azzi pulled back slightly, her fingers grazing the hem of Paige’s jersey she had on, lifting it just enough to make Paige’s breath hitch. The slow, torturous pace was getting to her.

Paige was never one to let Azzi have all the control. Wanting to turn the tide in her favor a little, she lifted her hips into her, just enough to catch Azzi off guard. Azzi let out a sharp moan, her eyes fluttering closed as the movement sent a jolt through her.

Mmm, what happened, baby?” Paige purred, her voice dripping with amusement as she tilted her head, watching Azzi’s every move. Her hands slid down to Azzi’s ass, fingers tightening as she pulled her even closer, grinding against her slowly. “Getting a little lost, huh?”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her hands gripping Paige’s arms for leverage. “Probably you more than me.”

Paige’s grin widened as she felt Azzi’s breath stutter, the slight hesitation before she recovered. “Mmm, I don’t think so baby,” Paige whispered as she lifted Azzi’s hips completely before pushing them back down.

Azzi’s jaw tightened, refusing to let Paige see just how much she was getting to her. Instead, she retaliated, rolling her hips, pressing down against Paige in a way that forced a sharp inhale from her lips.

The smirks on both of their faces never fell as they pushed and pulled, challenging each other for dominance. Paige’s fingers dug into Azzi’s hips as she tried to hold her still, but Azzi countered by shifting forward, her hands sliding up Paige’s arms before pressing into her shoulders for leverage.

Neither wanted to give in, their bodies moving in sync as they played their little game—one teasing, the other taunting, both determined to win. Little sounds slipped from their lips, unintentional reactions to the tension between them, to the way their control over the situation teetered with every movement.

Azzi leaned in, her lips hovering over Paige’s, their heavy breaths mingling. “You sure you’re winning this one, baby?” she taunted, her voice just barely above a whisper.

Paige swallowed, as she smirked. “You’re not.”

Azzi, not liking that, rolled her hips down again, watching as Paige’s head fell back against the seat, her fingers tightening around Azzi’s waist. Paige sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to her composure, but Azzi caught the way her body twitched under her.

Paige recovered quickly, exhaling sharply as she dragged her hands up Azzi’s back.

She flipped their positions pressing Azzi back against the seat, her hands pinning Azzi’s wrists on either side of her head. Azzi’s eyes widened in surprise before she let out a soft chuckle, biting her lip as she looked up at Paige before pulling her in for a kiss.

Paige groaned against Azzi’s lips, her fingers gripping at the jersey, bunching the fabric in her fists as she deepened the kiss. Azzi hummed into her mouth, pulling Paige closer, her hands sliding up Paige’s back before tangling in her hair. The kiss was messy, all tongue neither of them holding back as they pushed and pulled at each other, fighting for control even now.

Paige nipped at Azzi’s bottom lip, pulling away just enough to murmur, “You look so fucking good in this, baby.” Her voice was thick, her eyes heavy as she tugged at the jersey again.

Azzi smirked against her lips, tilting her head slightly. “Yeah? You like it?” she teased, running her hands down Paige’s back before gripping her waist, and flipping their positions back. Paige barely had time to react before she found herself against the seat again, Azzi now on top, straddling her once smirk again.

Paige's grip tightened instantly, her fingers digging into Azzi’s skin as her head fell back against the seat. “Fuck, I can’t, baby,” she groaned, her voice strained, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold on. “I’m close.”

Azzi, still in full control, shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “Not yet.”

Paige let out a desperate sound, her hands gripping harder as her breath came out in uneven pants. “I—I can’t control it, mama,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly as she fought against the overwhelming feeling.

Azzi hummed in response, bringing Paige’s hands up to place them firmly on her chest under the jersey. “Yes, you can,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against Paige’s, their breaths mingling. Paige whimpered, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet Azzi’s gaze.

Azzi smirked, tilting her head as she kept her rhythm steady, teasing, pushing, and pulling Paige right to the edge but never letting her tip over. “I want you to hold it for me,” she mumbled against Paige’s lips, her fingers sliding into Paige’s hair.

Paige's jaw clenched as she let out a shaky breath, her entire body tense beneath Azzi. Her hands trembled slightly as she squeezed Azzi’s hips, desperately trying to focus, to obey, even though every fiber of her being wanted to let go. “Fuck I can’t,” she groaned, voice hoarse. “You’re killing me, baby.”

Azzi chuckled, pressing a kiss to Paige’s jaw. “No, I’m making you feel good.”

Paige’s grip faltered as she instinctively moved her hands away from Azzi’s waist, gripping the leather seats beside her in a desperate attempt to ground herself. But Azzi wasn’t having it. She grabbed Paige’s hands, guiding them right back to her hips.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her body tensing beneath Azzi’s as she struggled to maintain even a sliver of control. But Azzi knew exactly what she was doing—exactly how to unravel her.

Pressing soft, lingering kisses along Paige’s neck, Azzi hummed against her skin. “Why do you keep moving your hands, baby?” she whispered, her voice low, teasing.

Paige swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against Azzi’s waist. “I—I don’t know,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Azzi smirked, kissing just below Paige’s ear. “Mmm. You don’t know?” she murmured, trailing her lips lower as her fingers traced slow circles against Paige’s wrist. “You always get like this when I take my time.”

Paige let out a frustrated groan, her fingers gripping Azzi’s hips even tighter. “Az..Fuck—Az please,” she breathed, her head falling back.

Azzi chuckled, running her fingers through Paige’s hair before gently tugging. “Did you like my outfit today?” she asked.

Paige let out a shuddering breath, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s waist. “What?”

Azzi kissed along her jaw, her teeth biting against the sensitive skin. “I saw you looking all night,” she continued, her tone light. “You think I wore it just because?”

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, her body reacting before she could even think of a response. Azzi was relentless—and completely in control.

“Tell me,” Azzi whispered, biting lightly at Paige’s ear. “Did you like it baby?”

Paige’s breath hitched, her hands gripping Azzi’s waist harder as she struggled beneath her, the tension in her stomach pulling with every word. “You know I did,” she admitted, her voice nearly breaking.

Azzi hummed in satisfaction, kissing down Paige’s neck again. “Good.”

Paige’s entire body was taut beneath Azzi, every muscle locked as she tried—desperately—to hold on. But Azzi kept dragging out every second.

“I’m close baby,” Azzi whispered, her voice strained, her hips still moving in perfect rhythm.

Paige groaned, her grip on Azzi’s waist bruising as she fought to keep herself together, her breathing ragged. “Baby, please,” she gasped, eyes fluttering shut, her resolve hanging by a thread.

Azzi leaned in, capturing Paige’s lips in a kiss that stole the last of her restraint. It was deep and possessive, sending a sharp, overwhelming heat rushing through Paige’s body.

That was all it took. Paige tensed beneath her, a strangled moan leaving her lips as she completely unraveled, her hands gripping Azzi like she was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality as her body started to shake.

But Azzi didn’t stop.

Even as Paige trembled beneath her, trying to catch her breath, trying to get Azzi to slow down, she kept moving—dragging her lips along Paige’s jaw, whimpering softly in her ear as she chased her own release.

Paige whined, her hands sliding from Azzi’s waist to her thighs in an attempt to stop her movements . Saying desperately, “Az, baby it’s too much. I can’t—”

Paige barely had time to finish her sentence before Azzi’s lips were on hers again, swallowing every whimper and shaky breath. Azzi kissed her deep, desperate, as if she was chasing something only Paige could give her.

Within seconds, Azzi’s body tensed on top of Paige, her grip tightening in Paige’s hair as she gasped into the kiss. Paige felt it—the way Azzi’s body shuddered, the way her fingers curled into her scalp, the way she bit down on Paige’s bottom lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape.

Paige groaned into the kiss, overwhelmed by how good Azzi felt against her, by the way Azzi clung to her like she never wanted to let go. She held her close, letting her ride it out despite the tension rapidly growing in her stomach again as she pressed soothing kisses against her jaw as Azzi's breathing came in soft, uneven pants.

“Damn, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice rough, her hands still gripping Azzi’s waist like she needed something to ground herself.

Azzi let out a breathy chuckle, her forehead resting against Paige’s as she tried to collect herself. “Told you I wasn’t desperate,” she whispered, a smirk pulling at her lips despite how dazed she looked.

Not being able to take anymore Paige pushed Azzi off of her as she struggled to pull the vibrator off of her. Azzi chuckled as she watched Paige struggle, her chest still rising and falling unevenly. She leaned back against the seat, completely unbothered, while Paige ran a hand down her face, trying to collect herself.

But Paige wasn’t having it. With a huffed breath, she reached for the door handle, muttering, “We’re going upstairs.”

Azzi smirked, tilting her head as she reached for her skirt thrown on the seat. “Yeah?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Paige shot her a look, jaw tight, eyes still clouded. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “Now.”

Azzi hummed, pushing the car door open as she stepped out, stretching her arms lazily as if she wasn’t still feeling everything that just happened. As Paige moved to follow, Azzi turned back, biting her lip before murmuring, “I’ll be by the mirror baby.”

Paige turned off the car, taking a deep breath to steady herself before stepping out.

Azzi was already heading inside, her skirt discarded on the floor, leaving her still in nothing but that damn jersey that barely covered anything as she made her way upstairs. She didn’t even look back—just walked with an effortless sway that had Paige gripping the door frame for a second longer than necessary.

Paige smirked, licking her lips as she shut the door behind her. “I’m about to fuck her up,” she muttered to herself, rolling her shoulders back in confidence.

She followed Azzi up the stairs, her cocky smirk only growing as she shut the bedroom door.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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sloaneispunk · 2 days ago

Text

“flowers in your hair”

frontman!in-ho x you (season one)

when the cheeky, happy-go-lucky girl in-ho had met in the games, takes every opportunity to get close to him, he can’t resist her charm.

in-ho slipped out from his bunk, silently observing as all the other players stood around in confusion. he turned around and looked up, looking straight into the camera above him.

“hey, what are you staring at, old man?”

he whipped his head around, eyes landing on you. there you were, a young girl, head resting on your palms as you looked down at him with doe eyes, a big grin on your face. who were you?

“i’m sorry, who are you?” he questioned, making you climb down the top bunk, stopping right in front of in-ho.

“i’m y/n.” you said cheerfully, extending your hand.

in-ho gave you a skeptical look before he took your hand. “i’m young-il.”

“nice to meet you!”

and just like that you were gone, striding to join the others, leaving him baffled and stunned. he stared as you grew further and further away from him, he was mesmerised. never in his years of being frontman had he met someone like you. so cheerful, so mischievous yet so enthralling.

as the announcements were made, in-ho grew bored. his eyes wandered around the room, eyes roaming around the different variations of players. then, he spotted you again. as if on cue, you turned around, giving him a small wave before turning your attention back to the guards who were speaking. in-ho didn’t have the chance to regain his composure before you looked away, he was stunned.

when the first game started, ‘red light, green light’, he was calm. when the first shot rang and a player dropped dead, he stayed in place, watching from his peripheral vision as chaos insued. however, he noticed a still player not too far from where he was at. it was you. somehow you had gotten the gist of the game faster than anyone else in the room. by now, he would’ve expected such a free spirited girl like you to have been eliminated, but you were doing wuite the opposite.

as the game continue, he continued to make him way slowly but surely to the finish line. it was around a minute left on the clock when panic started to set in. he was a few feet away from the finish line. was he really going to fail at his own game?

then, as he got closer and when the doll had turned, he felt a hand grab the collar of his jacket, pulling him right into the finish line before he could bother moving.

“that was close.” he heard a familiar voice say. that’s when he realized, it was you who saved him. “you okay?” you asked looking at him with worried eyes.

“i-i’m okay.” he replied, catching his breath as the timer went down to zero and the remaining players were eliminated.

walking back to the gameroom, in-ho felt a presence trailing behind him. just as he was about to give the person a piece of his mind, he came face to face with you once more. almost immediately, he calmed down, fists unclenching and jaw unlocking.

“i didn’t get to thank you for earlier.” he said, making you catch up to him.

“it was my pleasure, couldn’t let someone like you get shot down like the rest.”

what did that mean? were you flirting with him?

during mealtime, he sat with you, approaching you without question. “why are you so bubbly? this place is depressing.” he asked, watching you enjoy your food.

“what’s not to love? everything here’s better than the shit hole outside.” you shrugged.

in-ho could feel his heart ache as he thought of how your life was like outside the games. something in him thought that you’d at least be better off somewhere with him where you could be like this all the time.

“i like your hair.” he complimented, taking you by surprise as your hand flew to your hair, touching the little flowers you had carefully put in.

“thank you! although, i didn’t take you for the compliment type.” you joked, making him smile. “and he smiles too?!”

in-ho chuckled, you were really something else.

that night when it was time to rest, he watched you from his bottom bunk. you slept so peacefully, he swore he could even see a subtle smile on your face as you turned subconsciously to face. he found himself feeling warm inside when he caught even a glimpse of you. you brought so much joy and bliss to him in a god forsaken place like this.

the next day, he awoke to the sound of classical music blasting through the speakers. but to his surprise, you were already up, putting your hair into a braid, carefully putting the flowers back in your hair. ‘unbelievable’ he thought to himself.

“what do you think the next game will be?” you asked as the both of you hobbled down the stairs to the next venue.

“i don’t know, y/n… but i’m sure you’ll be fine.”

you gave him a smile, nodding.

when you entered the room, you were met with four different shapes. square, circle, star and umbrella.

“how strange.” you mumbled under your breath, only loud enough for in-ho who stood beside you to hear. “which one should we go with?”

in-ho gulped. he knew that he should choose circle, and leave you to be doomed by your fate, but he couldn’t.

“i think i’ll go with umbrella.”

“no.”

you gave him a strange look. “what?”

“come with me, y/n.” he simply said, taking your hand and leading you to the circle. you followed wordlessly, liking how much he cared about you even thought you’ve only met a day ago.

when everyone had picked a shape, the game was announced.

‘dalgona’

“how’d you know to pick circle? it seems like the easiest.” you asked, gazing up at the older man as he only smiled.

“lucky guess.”

as the game began, you and in-ho sat quietly in a far corner of the room, both concentrating on carving the shape out. you had your tongue poked out in focus, eyes squinted and eyebrows frowned, making in-ho choke up a laugh.

“what? are you laughing at me?”

“no. just saw something.” he tried to cover it up.

“whatever, young-il. i’m done so have fun with your dalgona.”

in-ho looked up, seeing you hold out a perfect circle.

“that was fast.” he commented, going back to his dalgona. “why don’t you head out first? i’ll join you as soon as i’m done.”

“and leave you alone? yeah, not a chance.”

his heart fluttered in his chest. he tried his best to suppress his blush by looking down but as he looked at you, sitting with your back against the wall, quietly observing his actions, he blushed harder.

a while later, he was finally done. both of you headed to the exit while the others were struggling to finish the game.

“look at that guy, he’s licking it.” you said, face scrunched up in disgust as you pointed to a man, player 456, who was bent over, licking the dalgona rapidly.

“thanks to me, we don’t have to do that.” he joked, making you smack his arm.

the next day, it was ‘tug of war’. in-ho took notice as you sat in front of him, how silent you became. the enthusiastic, charming aura that floated all around you had vanished.

he had asked you many times if you were okay but the only response you gave him was a nod. not a smile, not a snarky remark. it made him worry.

when it was your teams turn, you stood silently in the corner of the elevator, playing with your fingers. only in-ho noticed how much your hands were shaking, how your breath hitched with even the slightest crank of the elevator. there wasn’f much to be said, he could only take your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on it, reassuring you.

the team carried out the strategy that sang-woo had came up with-hold out for the first few seconds. when the opposing team had lost their momentum, that’s when you would strike.

luckily for in-ho you were positioned not too far from him. close enough for him to still be able to lay his eyes on you.

when the game started, things got serious quickly. eveyone used every ounce of strength they had. but the plan had faltered and you were losing.

“on my count release!” sang-woo shouted, causing an uproar of discontent from everyone. but what choice did you have. and so you did. the team stumbled forward, half of you hanging off the ledge as you watched the opposing team fall back onto their asses, losing their grip completely.

then, you pulled hard. catching them off guard, slowly but surely dragging them closer and closer towards the edge as one by one, they all fell. soon, the rope was cut off, leaving everyone laying flat on the ledge, lost for words.

when you were headed back towards the main room, you felt an arm snake around your waist, it was in-ho.

“you did so well, y/n.” he said, hoping to get that same cheeky smile from you again, but it never came.

when you failed to reply, he halted, holding you back as the rest of the team went ahead.

“talk to me.” in-ho said in a gentle, almost loving voice. he hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, trying to give you some sense of comfort.

“i-i’m scared, young-il. i d-don’t want to play anymore.” you admitted, tears springing to your eyes as you spoke.

“oh, sweet girl, don’t cry.” he shushed, pulling you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“i c-can’t be happy anymore, i-i need to get out of this place, young-il. i don’t w-want to die.” you cried muffled by his jacket.

“i know…let it out, i’m here, baby.” he comforted, stroking your hair.

in-ho hated it. he hated how this place had broke you. stripping away his sun and joy of this place, all he wanted at that moment was for him to be able to hear your laughter again.

then, as if on impulse, he pulled away, bending down slightly to meet your lips. it was soft, gentle, almost innocent. he kissed your lips with so much passion and affection. there was no need for any words, everything he needed to say melted right into the kiss.

when he pulled away, he could hear a small giggle. he opened his eyes to be met with the most beautiful sight he swore he had ever seen. your eyes half teary, hair messy and lips swollen from his kiss.

“thank you.” you said softly, looking up at him.

“anytime, y/n.”

#frontman #frontman x reader #frontman x you #hwang inho #inho x reader #inho x you #squid game #squidgame season 2 #lee byung hun x you #lee byung hun x reader

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helen-with-an-a · 2 days ago

Note

Hi van you write Lucy Bronze x reader. Reader and Lucy both changed club. R at Arsenal and obviously Lucy at Chelsea. Can you write something about the first game against eachother. Reader is striker so she and Lucy are at battle a lot

Rivalry

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: It's the first London Derby for you and Lucy

TW: slight suggestiveness

“Now, remember, you guys do actually love each other,” Millie reminded, her eyebrow arched as she looked at Lucy.

Lucy crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, flicking a dismissive look across the room. “Not when she’s wearing red, I don’t,” she shot back, her lips pursed.

Millie sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’re literally married,” she deadpanned.

Before Lucy could shoot back, Erin bounded over, grinning from ear to ear. “C’mon, Bronzey. Time to do your worst,” she cheered, her hands landing firmly on Lucy’s shoulders. She gave Lucy an enthusiastic shake, encouraging the childish competitiveness.

"Remember, you’re married. You love her," Kim reminded gently, her Scottish accent warm and soothing as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You shook her off with a dramatic shrug, glancing off to the side. "Not whilst she’s in blue," you said with a smirk, half-joking but also incredibly serious.

Kim raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"That’s what we like to hear," came Katie's playful response, clearly enjoying the spark of mischief in your tone. She leaned in with a wolfish grin, unfazed by the disapproving glance Kim shot in her direction.

“Honestly,” Kim muttered, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her amusement, “you two are impossible.”

You chuckled, exchanging a knowing look with Katie, who winked in return, thoroughly unbothered by Kim’s scolding.

The London Derby – a clash of colours, red vs blue, Arsenal against Chelsea. The stadium was electric, fans on both sides roaring as the teams took their places, the rivalry as fierce as ever. This wasn’t just any match; it was a battle of pride, a test of skill, a stage where heroes were made.

On one side, Arsenal’s new Left Winger, all determination and fire, an unstoppable force that already had 10 goals to her name. Across from her, Chelsea’s Right Back, just as new to the club but with a resolve just as sharp. One of the best defenders in the world, and ready to prove herself.

It was Bronze vs Y/S/N – a head-to-head destined to draw all eyes, both players back in the WSL and ready to prove they belonged.

You loved playing with Lucy – there was an undeniable rhythm when you were on the same side. Your link-ups at City and England were the stuff of legends and had followed you across to La Liga F. But playing against her? That was something else entirely. There was an excitement, a spark that transformed the entire field into a chessboard, a dance floor for you to twist and turn on.

You knew exactly how she moved, the subtle shifts of her weight before a sprint, the flicker of her eyes before she went for a pass. You could practically feel what was running through her head, and she’d always been an open book to you on the field. But it worked both ways. Lucy knew your tactics inside out, the plays you liked, the feints you tried to slip past her, even the tiny tells you had when you were about to break away. She saw it all.

This mutual understanding turned the match into something thrilling – a mental game layered onto the physical. Every pass you intercepted, every tackle she made, felt like a challenge issued and answered. It was a test of skill and instinct, one that you rarely found with other opponents. There was an intensity to it, a sense of pushing each other to the edge, each play daring the other to do better. Against her, you played your best.

“Loser’s tied up tonight?” Lucy whispered in your ear as you lined up for the corner, her hands grazing your hips in a way that set your heart racing, even if you wouldn’t show it.

“Bring it, Bronze.” You shot back, unfazed, letting your smile seep into your voice. You’d trained against her for years now; her mind games weren’t new territory. If anything, you were more amused than anything else.

Lucy let out a dramatic sigh, clearly ready to keep up the act. “Ugh, that’s Bronze-Y/S/N, thank you very much,” she whispered, sounding almost offended, but the glimmer in her eye gave her away.

“Well, the back of your shirt still says Bronze,” you replied, raising an eyebrow and glancing back at her with a smirk.

“And yours still says Y/S/N.” She countered. Before you could toss another witty remark back, you heard a voice cutting through the tension.

“Stop flirting and concentrate, Luce,” Hannah called out, her tone half-exasperated, half-amused as she tried to organise her back line.

You could see Lucy bite her lip, her cheeks tinged pink, a slight laugh escaping her. "Yeah, Lucy, wouldn't want flirting with your incredibly sexy wife to be the reason I score now would we." You winked, sticking your tongue out as you nodded at Katie.

You charged down the wing, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you collected a beautifully weighted pass from Leah from the edge of the box. Without breaking stride, you looked up, assessing the field. Lucy and Hannah were the only Chelsea players left between you and the goal.

The options whirled in your mind in seconds. A long-range shot? It would be ambitious, a shot from barely over halfway. You were still in the centre circle, but Hannah was off her line, hovering just far enough to tempt fate. The safer play would be to drive it forward, close the distance, but Lucy was waiting, ready to close in if you tried to slip past her. You could see her watching you, ready to pounce the moment your concentration slipped.

Your eyes flicked to the goal, a decision making itself for you. Steeling yourself, you brought your leg back, letting power build. Releasing it in a controlled strike, you watched as the ball launched from your boot, a perfect arc carrying it high and fast over the field.

Hannah scrambled back, her fingertips grazing the air, but it was too late. The ball sailed over her reach and crashed into the back of the net, sending the netting rippling in glorious confirmation.

For a single, suspended heartbeat, the entire pitch seemed to hold its breath. The impossible shot hung in the air, every eye tracing its perfect arc until it dropped, nestling into the back of the net. And then, the silence shattered. Cheers exploded from the stands, a roar that rolled over the field and settled into your bones, fuelling the rush already coursing through you. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, a wide grin breaking across your face as what you had just done fully set in.

Turning back, you searched the field for Lucy, anticipation bubbling up in you. When you caught her eye, her expression was priceless – caught between surprise and reluctant admiration. Her mouth opened as if to protest, but then she closed it, lips twisting into a smile that was more fond than annoyed, even if it was tinged with a hint of competitive frustration.

For a moment, neither of you said a word. You simply shared that look, the quiet acknowledgment of having pushed each other, of knowing exactly how to get under each other’s skin on the field – and of enjoying every second of it.

"Is it too much to use the red ties?" you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips as you strolled up to Lucy, your voice dripping with teasing charm.

Lucy let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to her chest like she was utterly wounded. "My pride is on the floor, and yet you still kick me when I'm down!" she replied, though her eyes sparkled with laughter, making it impossible for her to sell the act.

You laughed loudly, thoroughly undeterred by her theatrics. "What can I say? London is red after all," you replied as you stepped even closer, closing the last of the distance. Without hesitation, you slipped your arms around her waist, pulling her against you. "And your arse will be too by the time I’m done with you," you whispered, your voice dropping to a seductive murmur as your lips brushed her ear.

Lucy’s cheeks flushed that perfect shade of pink, and she gave a nervous laugh, casting a quick, cautious glance over her shoulder. “We’re still in public, you know,” she murmured, though the deepening colour in her cheeks showed she wasn’t entirely complaining.

“Oh, I know.” You looked up at her with a wicked smile, savouring the moment, not quite ready to pull away just yet.

But before you could say anything more, Leah’s voice cut through the tension, loud and teasing. “Oi, stop with the weird foreplay and go shower!” she called, casting an exaggerated eye-roll in your direction and folding her arms, though a hint of a grin tugged at her mouth.

Lucy laughed, burying her face in your shoulder for a moment, clearly amused and a little embarrassed. With a small sigh, she gave you a reluctant smile. “Guess that’s our cue,” she muttered, squeezing your hand before finally letting go.

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no-144444 · 24 hours ago

Text

abu dhabi- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

a/n: thank you all very much for your patience, this series means a lot to me and I've had a lot of personal stuff going on, so I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging for a bit. Thank you all so much for reading this series and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I love writing it!

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Abu Dhabi. World Drivers Champion. World Constructors Champions.

Holy shit.

All those years of hard work, of giving up being a child, of giving up having friends or family. You’d done it. You were a winner.

You jumped out of the car and ran straight to Oscar, jumping in his arms. He caught you (of course) and cheered with you.

“You fucking did it!” he smiled, pulling your helmet off. “You did it!”

Every emotion flooded through you, but one in particular stood out; gratefulness.

You were grateful for Oscar, for how he treated you, for who he was. He was there for you through everything, he helped you whenever he could, and while yes, you had a rough start, in the end you couldn’t imagine F1 without Oscar in it.

“Thank you, Osc, for everything,” you smiled, hugging him close.

“Anytime. Whenever. Always,” he nodded.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was drunk as fuck, but he was still watching you as you chatted with various team members.

“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, joining his side.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m drunk, yes.”

“No. You’re fucked for her,” Lando pointed twoards you. Perfect, unreachable, you.

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning. “I’m fucked for her.”

“It’s pretty clear.”

“I know it is,” Oscar scoffed. “Thanks for Baku, by the way.”

Lando sighed. “Look, I’ve said a lot of shit this season that I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry I was a dick to the two of you. It wasn’t right and I do feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t solve the fact that she’s being this mysterious weirdo and acting really into me and then really not,” Oscar whined.

“She’s a very broken person-”

“You think?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not exactly giving me much hope right now.”

Lando laughed at his drunk state. “Just talk to her,” he offered. “She listens to you no matter what.”

Oscar stared at him, then nodded. “Good idea!” he announced (a little too loud as it drew the attention of a few people around the two of them), and looked at you. But you weren’t there. Oscar frowned again.

“You’ll find her before the end of the night, I’m sure you will,” Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water to sober him up. “Good luck.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar had decided to go find you, he wanted to talk. On the way there, he’d acquired about three more drinks and pissed off a small group of other McLaren employees by spilling one of his three drinks and apologised profusely (albeit rather mumbly), and that’s when you came in with a hand on his shoulder and a gentle smile that brushed it all over.

“Are you alright?” you asked him, taking him to a corner to look him over.

“Y/n?” he questioned, his vision blurry. “Is that you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me buddy, you alright?”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too, Osc, come on, we get you to bed?” you offered, pulling one of his arms over your shoulder and helping him walk.

“Bed sounds good,” he nodded, allowing you to walk him to his room.

Drunk Oscar was what you assumed three year olds acted like. He pressed every button in the lift, ding-dong ditched people in the hallway, and stripped (almost) naked the second he got in the door of his room. After a few minutes of being in his room, he decided it was a good time to puke his guts out in the toilet, and you, being the good samaritan you are, decided to stay with him.

“Feeling any better?” you asked, putting a cold cloth on his head as he lay in bed. You sat beside him, holding his hand.

He shook his head, his eyes closed and a grimace on his lips. “Shit.”

You chuckled lightly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He opened his eyes and stared into yours, his hand resting over your hand. And time (as it always did when he was looking at you like that) stopped. The world melted away, and it didn’t matter that it was 2 in the morning, or that he’d just vomited, or that all of this was a lot more confusing than either of you had anticipated. You two just got to be with each other, and that was enough for the both of you.

“Why don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small and raw. He spoke to you with all the care in the world, but you could see he was hurting. You were hurting him.

Fuck. Why couldn’t any of this be easy? Why couldn’t you just… talk to him? Confess to him? Be normal? The boy you love was sitting there in front of you telling you he loved you and you just… froze for a moment. You took a deep breath. “Osc, of course I love you,” you whispered. “But you shouldn’t love me. I wouldn’t be any good for you.”

“I don’t care-”

“You’d end up hating me-”

“I could never hate you,” he shook his head, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “I could never hate you.”

And you believed him. That was the scary part. You believed him when he told you he loved you. You believed him when he said he cares. You believed him when he said you look beautiful. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hate you. “You should,” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes.

“I couldn’t,” he whispered back, a soft smile on his face. He wiped away a tear that fell. “I don’t want you to be scared of how you feel.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” your voice broke. “I’m not an easy person to love.”

“I disagree,” he chuckled, wiping every tear away. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.”

And you couldn’t take it anymore. You curled up beside him and sobbed. You didn’t know how long you’d done it for, but you woke up beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your head giving you something to ground yourself to. You remembered every moment of last night, every word he said, and everything you said.

You just hoped he wouldn’t.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When Oscar woke up, he knew there was something he had asked you last night, but he couldn’t remember what. After his conversation with Lando, there was nothing else he really remembered, apart from the fact that you had brought him up to his room, and he pieced together that he’d probably asked you to stay (being the pathetic hopeless romantic he is), and that’s why you were in his bed.

A few seconds after waking up, the hangover hit, and fuck it was bad. His entire body ached.

“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned, his voice hoarse.

You chuckled beside him. “Remember anything?”

He sighed, turning to meet your eyes. “Nope.”

As much as that destroyed you, you knew it was for the better. Oscar was better off without you, that, you knew for sure. But, you also couldn't put aside the confession he'd made last night. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” It played in your head over and over again, like a mantra that made every negative thought in your head silent for a few seconds. Oscar was good at that, making you question yourself. Either way, you were glad he hadn't remembered. It was for the better, right?

There was a split second where he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of disappointment in your eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it was there, replaced with a smile. “Well, let’s go back to Monaco.”

He groaned just thinking about facing the day, but the fact that he woke up next to you meant it was better than any day he’d ever had.

He definitely needed to know what he asked you last night. And you definitely needed him to not find out.

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woso-story · 19 hours ago

Text

The Worry Of Love

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The morning light streamed into the bedroom, soft and golden, but you barely noticed it as you stirred awake. Instinctively, your hand reached out to the other side of the bed, seeking the familiar warmth of Alexia. Instead, your fingers found cool sheets. You blinked, reality setting in: she was away at an away game, and the bed felt far too big and empty without her.

You lay there for a moment, letting the loneliness creep in. It was such a cliché to feel incomplete when Alexia wasn’t around, but that’s how it was. She had a way of filling the silence, of making everything feel right. Without her, the apartment seemed eerily quiet.

Eventually, you forced yourself out of bed, padding into the kitchen to make breakfast. The kettle hummed as you prepared your tea, the sound breaking the stillness. On the counter sat a little note Alexia had left before she left for her match:

“Good luck surviving without me, cariño ;) Te amo! Be good. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Her familiar handwriting brought a smile to your face. You missed her, but you knew she was doing what she loved. Still, you couldn’t help but count down the hours until she’d be back.

---

With the entire day ahead and no work responsibilities, you decided to spend it doing things you loved. After breakfast, you pulled your bike from the storage room, deciding on a long, leisurely ride. The fresh air would do you good, and the thought of a quiet ride through the countryside lifted your mood.

The roads were peaceful, the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound besides the rhythmic hum of your tires. You cycled lazily, admiring the view: sprawling fields, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and the golden glow of the late-morning sun. You felt lighter, as though the world had slowed down just for you.

But in a single moment, everything changed.

You weren’t sure what exactly happened—one moment, you were gliding along, and the next, you were sprawled on the ground, your bike tangled beside you. Pain radiated from your wrist as you sat up, dazed and confused. You cradled your arm, wincing as the throbbing intensified.

A passerby rushed over, concern etched on their face. They helped you to your feet, offering to take you to the hospital. You insisted you were fine, but the pain told a different story. Reluctantly, you agreed.

The hospital visit was a blur of x-rays and sympathetic nurses. The doctor confirmed what you feared—a fractured wrist. They fitted you with a cast, and though the injury wasn’t serious, it left you frustrated and deflated. This wasn’t how you’d imagined your day going.

---

Back home, you sank into the couch, staring at the cast. You’d planned a full day—shopping, relaxing, watching Alexia’s match—but now, all you had was a stiff wrist and a story you didn’t want to tell.

You thought about calling Alexia. But no, she didn’t need to know. She had a big game tonight, and the last thing you wanted was to distract her. You could already picture the worry in her eyes, the guilt she’d feel for not being there. It wasn’t worth it.

That evening, you settled in to watch her match. Despite everything, seeing her on the pitch brought a smile to your face. She was a force of nature, commanding the game with her usual grace and determination. Her team secured a hard-fought victory, and pride swelled in your chest.

Later, your phone buzzed with her call.

“Hola, mi amor,” she greeted, her voice bright with excitement. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course,” you replied, forcing cheerfulness into your tone. “You were incredible. Congratulations!”

“Thank you! How was your day?” she asked, her voice softening.

You hesitated, the truth on the tip of your tongue. But then you remembered her face when she worried, the way her brows knitted together, how her focus shifted entirely to you. You couldn’t do that to her—not tonight.

“It was good,” you said instead. “Quiet, but nice. I missed you, though.”

“I missed you too,” she murmured. “Just one more night, and I’ll be home.”

You ended the call with a bittersweet smile, guilt tugging at you.

---

The next day, you were on the couch when you heard the sound of keys in the door. Alexia was finally home. You looked up as she walked in, her bag slung over her shoulder, exhaustion evident in her posture.

But her fatigue vanished the moment her eyes landed on your cast.

“What happened?” she demanded, rushing over to you. Her hands hovered over the cast, unsure whether to touch it. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed, explaining the accident as simply as possible. Her expression shifted from shock to worry, and then to frustration.

“You should have told me,” she said, her tone a mix of scolding and hurt.

“I didn’t want to distract you,” you admitted. “I knew you’d worry, and it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” she replied, her voice softening. “You’re hurt. I’d rather know, no matter what.”

Before you could respond, she was off, bustling around the apartment, gathering pillows, blankets, water, and snacks. Despite her exhaustion, she seemed determined to take care of you.

“Lex, stop,” you said eventually, tugging her down onto the couch beside you. “I’m fine. Just sit with me.”

She hesitated but finally gave in, leaning against you. “Do you need anything? Ice? Painkillers?”

“No,” you replied firmly, wrapping an arm around her. “The only thing I need is you.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, though the worry in her eyes didn’t entirely fade.

---

Over the next few days, Alexia’s doting reached new heights. She refused to let you do anything, from cooking to cleaning to even pouring your morning coffee. At times, her hovering was exasperating, but deep down, you knew it came from a place of love.

One morning, as you tried to make breakfast, she gently but firmly steered you back to the couch.

“Sit,” she instructed. “I’ll handle it.”

“Lex, I can manage one-handed,” you protested.

“Not when I’m here,” she countered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Though her overprotectiveness occasionally drove you crazy, you couldn’t help but smile. It was moments like these that reminded you why you loved her so much.

And as she placed a plate of toast and eggs in front of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you realized that maybe being pampered wasn’t so bad after all.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fics #woso community #barca femeni #woso #woso x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics

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lvnleah · 1 day ago

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Would love a AWFC!Teen reader fic where she's Leah's younger sister who has always had to deal with being with Leah's sister, so many expectations on her and people being her friends because of Leah (Leah is still very much an amazing sister, loves her baby sister to bits!)

So when she's around ten ish, she makes the choice to not let anyone know Leah is her sister, goes to games but doesn't sit in the family section and sits with friends who she's never told about her family, maybe even uses her mum's maiden name rather than Williamson etc.

Leah is undoubtedly a bit upset about it because she doesn't want to make her little ones passion dampen just by being her (I hc that Leah would very much see R as her baby because that's what she called her when she was born or something) but her and their family all accept it and do what R wants and needs

Cut to R being brought into the senior time, smashing it in the big leagues and getting along well with all of the senior players who are looking at her like 'she seems familiar and I don't know why...' only to find out she's Leah's little sister when she's injured on the pitch or Leah gets injured and she gets all panicked and doesn't want to leave her side

Cue Beth, Katie, Kim etc. Who have all been there for years like 'Holy shit, you've grown up!!!!' Because they probably would've known her when she was younger since they've known Leah that long

Long winded but hopefully you'll like the idea 😂😂

the other williamson | leah williamson.

thank you for this request! :)

this is one of my favourite fics I’ve written!

You had always been proud to be Leah’s sister, how could you not be? She was England’s captain after all and an Arsenal star but sometimes being nine years younger than Leah came with its struggles.

You were only seven when Leah first broke into the senior team and you were so proud of your sisters that for a while it’s all you talked about. Everyone at school knew about your cool big sister Leah and how she was playing for Arsenal.

At that time, women’s football wasn’t massive so of course you got a bit of stick from a few boys in your class but it wasn’t anything you could handle.

“Arsenal women?” One of them scoffed one day in the playground, “that isn’t a proper team!”

You looked the boy straight in the eye. “They are a proper team! My sister’s going to be the best player in the world, just you watch!”

The boy had rolled his eyes and laughed, but you didn’t care. You’d march off, determined to prove him wrong. Well, Leah would prove him wrong, and you’d be there cheering her on every step of the way.

For a while, being Leah’s sister was the coolest thing in the world. You loved going to games, sitting with your family, wearing a little Arsenal jersey with Williamson on the back.

Leah always made time for you, even when her schedule got busy. She’d let you run around on the pitch after matches, ruffle your hair, and call you “my little bubba,” no matter how much you protested.

But as you got older, things changed.

By the time you were fifteen, Leah was a household name. Women’s football had grown massively, and she was basically the face of it after winning the euros. People started treating you differently, not because of who you were, but because of who your sister was.

At school, kids who’d never spoken to you before suddenly wanted to be your friend. “Can you get me an autograph from Leah?” they’d ask, or, “Do you think she’d come to my party?” Teachers started expecting more from you, too, as if being Leah Williamson’s sister meant you had to be perfect at everything.

At the academy, it was worse. You had been lucky enough to sign for the Arsenal academy when you were twelve but after the euros things changed. Every time you stepped onto the pitch, you could feel the weight of their eyes on you.

Coaches would compare you to Leah, even though you were nothing like her as a player. You didn’t even play in the same position, you were a striker not a defender. Teammates would make comments, sometimes kind, sometimes not.

“She’s only on the team because her sister’s Leah Williamson,” someone whispered once after you scored. “She’s not even good enough for the academy.”

It stung more than you cared to admit.

That was when you made your decision. You didn’t want to be known as Leah’s sister anymore. You wanted to be you. That night after training, you came home and broke down in tears to your mum.

“Bubba, what’s wrong?” Amanda asked you as you stormed into the house, flinging your bag down onto the ground.

You sat down with a huff as more tears started to escape, Jacob gave Amanda a look, “Been like this since I picked her, won’t say what’s wrong though.” Your brother sighed.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, wiping at your face angrily, though the tears kept falling.

Amanda crouched down in front of you, her voice soft. “You’re clearly not fine, Bubba. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”

You glanced up at her, hesitating. Part of you didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the opportunities you had or for Leah being your sister but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m sick of it, Mum,” you said, your voice cracking. “Sick of being just Leah’s sister. Everyone at the academy thinks I’m only there because of Leah. They don’t even see me as my own person, just as ‘Leah’s little sister.’ I can’t do it anymore.”

Amanda’s face softened, and she sat beside you before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Bubba. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

Jacob sat down next to you on the couch on the other side, frowning. “That’s not fair. You’re talented in your own right. Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous.”

“But I'm always being compared to Leah, J,” you said, though your voice wavered. “No one believes that I'm good enough. They just think I’m riding on Leah’s name.”

Amanda kissed your temple, “You are good enough. And I understand why this is so hard for you. But what do you want to do about it? How can we help?”

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. “I don’t want to be ‘Williamson’ anymore,” you finally said. “I want to use your maiden name, Mum. I want to be a Baker, not Leah’s sister.”

Amanda blinked, taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll support you. Right, Jacob?”

“Of course,” Jacob said, ruffling your hair. “You’re still you, no matter what name’s on the back of your shirt.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, feeling a small wave of relief.

“What about Leah?” Amanda asked gently. “Have you talked to her about this?”

You froze. You hadn’t thought about how Leah would feel. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s always been so proud of me, but…”

“But you need to do this for yourself,” Amanda finished for you. “You know she’ll understand.”

You nodded.

Later that evening, when Leah got home from training, you sat down and told her everything. You expected her to be upset or worse, disappointed but instead, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Bubba,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. I’m so sorry, I’ve made things harder for you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly. “It’s not your fault, Le. I’m so proud of you, but I just need to figure out who I am without being ‘your sister.’”

Leah nodded, her hands on your shoulders. “I get it. And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Whatever name you use, you’ll always be my little Bubba, okay?”

You laughed through your tears, hugging her tightly.

That night, you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in months. You were ready to step out of Leah’s shadow and into your own light.

Fast forward a few years, you were now eighteen and transitioning into the senior team. Leah was now twenty-seven and somehow everyone had managed to keep it a secret that you were Leah’s sister.

Majority of the girls that you played with had either left the academy or completely stopped playing football. Your shirt name was now Baker and had been for two years now, your coaches were different too and everyone just thought that Leah was your family friend.

“Excited for your first senior training, bubba?” Leah asked you one December morning as she drove you both to the training ground.

You shrugged, a mixture of emotions, “Bit nervous…” you muttered, “Excited but nervous.”

Arsenal’s senior team had a new coach, Renee Slegers, and she had been to watch the u18s a few times. For some reason, she had seen something in you and wanted you to come train with the senior team and potentially play a few games.

“You’ve got this, Bubba. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. Renee knows what she’s doing, and so do you.” Leah told you.

You nodded, trying to let her words sink in. You knew Leah believed in you, she always had, but the pressure of stepping into the senior team felt overwhelming. It wasn’t just about proving yourself, it was about proving you belonged and you were separate from Leah.

When you arrived at the training ground, Leah walked in beside you, her confidence making her look so at ease. Meanwhile, your stomach churned as the nerves threatened to take over. You adjusted your backpack, trying to focus on your breathing.

“Relax, Bakes,” Leah said with a smirk, using the nickname some of your academy teammates had given you after you changed your last name. “They’re going to love you.”

As you entered the changing room, you were immediately greeted by familiar faces, some you hadn’t seen in years. Beth grinned as soon as she spotted you.

“No way! Little Bubba? Is that you?” Beth’s voice was teasing, her eyes wide in mock disbelief.

You groaned internally. So much for keeping the “Bubba” nickname under wraps. “It’s Baker now,” you corrected with a sheepish smile, but your voice was warm. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as Beth pulled you into a quick hug.

“Leah didn’t tell us you’d grown up so much!” Beth teased. “Last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?”

“Beth,” Leah interrupted, shooting her a warning look, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.

More players filtered in, all of them reacting with surprise when they realized who you were. Some of them hadn’t seen you since you were a kid, tagging along to games and family events. For others, it was the first time they’d met you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Katie said, holding up her hands. “So you’re telling me Leah’s been hiding this one from us? You’re playing with us now?”

You felt your cheeks burn as all eyes turned to you, but Leah stepped in, her tone light and teasing. “She wanted to make it on her own. Didn’t want to ride my coattails.”

“Fair play,” Kim said with an approving nod. “Gotta respect that.”

Leah turned to you, her smile soft. “Alright, Bubba, I mean Baker, time to show them why you’re here.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile before heading out to the pitch. As you jogged onto the field with the team, the nervous energy in your chest began to settle. You reminded yourself why you were there. Not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

And as the session began, you could feel yourself falling into the rhythm of the game you loved, the sound of the ball connecting with your boot grounding you. The team was fast, skilled, and ruthless, but you held your own. A well-timed run, a sharp finish past the keeper and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged.

At the end of training, Renee pulled you aside, her expression calm but firm. “You did well today. Keep this up, and we’ll see about getting you some minutes in the next match.”

Your heart soared at her words, but you kept your face neutral, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”

Leah was waiting for you by the car when you finally made it out of the locker room. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to gauge how you were feeling.

“Well?” she asked as you climbed in.

You smiled, the weight on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter. “I think I did okay.”

Leah grinned, her pride shining through. “I told you, Bubba. You’ve got this.”

The night of your debut arrived quicker than you expected. Arsenal was playing a league game at Meadow Park against Crystal Palace, and the squad list had you on the bench. You tried to focus during the pre-match warm-ups, but your nerves were all over the place. Leah, as always, noticed.

“Stop overthinking,” she whispered as the two of you jogged back to the dugout after the warm-up. “Just play your game. If you get on, don’t try to do too much. Be you.”

You nodded, though the butterflies in your stomach didn’t ease. The match started, and you watched intently from the bench, studying the pace of the game and trying to picture where you’d fit in.

By halftime, Arsenal was up 1–0, the goal coming from Leah. Renee made a couple of changes early in the second half, but your name wasn’t called. You were beginning to think your debut would have to wait until another day when, in the 70th minute Renee called you.

“Baker, you’re on,” Renee said, her voice firm but encouraging. “Stay calm, yeah? Leah’s out there with you. We’re doing okay, 3-0, so just stay calm, yeah? Try your hardest.”

You nodded, barely able to believe this was actually happening. Leah was standing by the touchline, waiting for you, her hand resting casually on her hip. When you reached her, she nudged you with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Ready for this, Bubba?”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, but you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped.

The referee blew the whistle, and you stepped onto the pitch, replacing Beth up top. Leah gave you a quick pat on the back as you ran to your position. “You’ve got this.”

The first few minutes were a blur. The pace of the game was faster than anything you’d experienced before, but you adjusted, remembering Leah’s advice: play your game.

Then, in the 80th minute, the ball came to you. Leah had intercepted a pass in and played a perfect through ball into your path. You took a touch, your heart pounding as you found yourself one-on-one with the keeper.

You steadied yourself, then slotted the ball into the bottom corner with your left foot. For a moment, everything went silent, and then the roar of the fans hit you all at once.

You’d scored on your debut.

Leah was the first to reach you, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug. “That’s my sister!” she shouted, her voice full of pride.

The rest of the team swarmed you, congratulating you with slaps on the back and ruffling your hair. The chant of your name began to ripple through the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged, not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had secured a 5–0 victory. Leah pulled you into another hug as you both walked off the pitch.

“Told you you’d smash it,” she said, her grin wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Thanks, Le.”

That night, as you sat with Leah in the kitchen at home, replaying the match in your head, she looked at you and said softly, “You’re going to have a great career, Bubba. I’m proud of you, you know that?”

For the first time, you didn’t mind the nickname. “Thanks, Le. Means a lot.”

#lvnleah #leah williamson x reader #awfc x teen reader #woso x reader

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dbdakindy · 2 days ago

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Did Charles ever fall into a lake perhaps during a school outing? Did Edwin hug him to keep him warm after that?

Or did Charles get lost after he had a fight with someone and Edwin talked with him to keep him company until they were found?

So far, nothing like that happened to Charles! But sometimes, just like any 4–year-old, Charles gets sad. Once, when Edwin noticed, he wanted to make his bestie feel loved and decided to make Charles a whole book all about Charles!

Charles couldn’t believe ten whole pages of nice things about himself.

Here is the book:

Above: Cover page of the “CHRL (Charles)” book, as written by Edwin. (Daddy Crowley taught him how to draw sparkles!)

Below: Charles is “STRG (Strong)” and can lift heavy rocks with his big muscles.

Above: Charles is “BRV (Brave)” and stands up to big Simon on behalf of “SmL (small)” Edwin.

Below: Charles is “SMAt (Smart)” — answering the ABC questions that Miss Nurse asks.

Above: Charles is “KiND” to everyone at school, according to Edwin. Here he is “HLP MONti (helping Monty)” dig in the sandbox.

Below: Charles loves to “HUG FRMZ (Hug Friends)” — okay Edwin is a little jealous when it’s not him. Edwin, are you sure Charles hugs Thomas?

Above: Charles can eat lots of “SPiSi (Spicy)” food like curry, wasabi, or basically anything that Edwin’s tummy cannot handle. “Wow” is right!

Below: Charles can “JUMP” the pommel horse. Here is Miss Jenny with her whistle and Edwin cheering Charles on.

Above: “BENTR (Adventure)” here is Charles leading the way on an ice cream adventure that definitely happened in Edwin’s heart and soul.

Below: “SMiL (Smile)” Charles does have “NiS TEF (nice teeth)” because he is good at brushing and gargling. Edwin thinks this is grand.

Above: Charles gave Edwin a big hug and Edwin gave Mr Kutta a hug when Edwin got hurt.

Below: “Mi CHRL (My Charles)” C: “FRENZ OK (We’re friends, okay?)” E: “OK”

And in response…?

Charles was so happy.

Readers, what do you do to make your bestie happy when they’re sad?

#dbdakindy #dead boy detectives #dbda fanart #q&a #dbda art #edwin payne #charles rowland #anonymous asker

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sphireath-wisp · 2 days ago

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#Backstage Pass!

Synopsis -> What an electrifying performance, it was worth all that money and time waiting. It was so good that you wanted an encore - in private, with less talking and more action.

Warnings -> Not proofread, all aged up, suggestive, language, Rin is objectively sweeter than Sae and Kaiser, mean Sae and Kaiser

Featuring -> Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi x F! Reader

"Oh, of course, you like MICHAEL KAISER, of all people," You force a sarcastic smirk, eyebrows creasing as if you eye her up and down as if you were judging her for some sort of malefaction. Honestly speaking, you should have foreseen this. You're the one who wants to go to the concert; you dragged your friend along so it wouldn't be a solo trip, but she's developed a liking for the blonde boy. He's the playboy type who goes on stage shirtless, flaunting the ink adorning his skin. Even when he makes the gracious decision to wear a solid-coloured tank top, it doesn't take away any attention from the prominent cerulean rose blooming on his throat. Her blase favouritism of Kaiser was nothing new.

Beneath the charisma - so lamentable, it was laudable, Kaiser had an ego that reached for the stars. But it was his solipsism that made him such a star, an unbreakable confidence that shined even brighter as he played. It's unusual for a bassist to get so much attention in a band, but everything was absurd about Kaiser in the first place. And the worst part is: he had the skill to back it up, every single shit-eating grin.

"An encore?" You watch Kaiser mouth out to the audience, and the crowd goes wild - especially the fans with the tips of their hair dyed a gaudy blue. Your friend shakes you back and forth, spilling a mix of 'thank yous' and 'ohmygosh' past her lips. His grin only grows wider as he hears the crowd cheer, almost expectantly, like the crowd was supposed to meet his expectations.

"You have a backstage pass, right? Do you think I could snatch his number?" Your friend nudges you, readily waiting for a supportive response. You hum - pretending to think so you wouldn't have to turn her down so flatly. "He's kissed fans before, so you'll need to try your luck, yeah?" You give your friend a comforting pat on the back, but you're the one who needs to reassure yourself, "Anyway, he's just eye candy, right?" She nods insouciantly: after all, it's not like they know each other.

When you see her soothing smile, for a split second, you wonder if you're being too critical of Kaiser. Your friend seems to enjoy the concert, maybe this has created common ground for you and her to bond. This smug bastard and his god-given charm may actually be a blessing in disguise.

"Don't you know how to swallow? You're drooling," You soon learn that you're a good judge of character when Kaiser forces his thumb into your mouth. You realize that your gut has always been right, and you can't decipher whether the uncomfortable churning in your stomach is due to butterflies or the sickening taste of nail polish on your tongue. Gosh, you feel like an idiot for doubting yourself and, most of all, doubting how much of a bastard he can be. Kaiser pulls you closer on his lap as if he couldn't get enough of your Carolina Herrera, and palms the swell of your ass when you scrape your teeth over his knuckle.

Your nails, freshly coated in a shade of rose that disgustingly reminds him more of that keyboardist than himself, scratch his forearm on their way up to his clavicle, leaving a trail of hot fire in their wake. Your raspberry-flushed skin matches his, especially when your fingers - more suited for loving than burning - wrap around the expanse of his neck and threaten to crush his airways. His fingers are out of your mouth, and his breath is already lost before anything has begun; you're starting to see the appeal in womanizers when his half-lidded eyes - glossy and lovestruck - stare with a shimmer that rivals stars.

"Didn't expect to find a beauty like you in the crowd, but you were giving me such a dirty look," His words are coated in honey, like flattering women is second nature for him. Your grip unconsciously loosens at his praise, and he uses his newfound leeway to capture your lips in his. He smells like Maison Margiela's Jazz Club, rum rubs off your sweat-slicked skin, and you swear you feel his teeth on your tongue when you press your chest against his.

His hands undo the clasp of your bra, and his tongue plays with the rest of your sanity. You swear to whoever's listening that you need another bottle of beer to wash this feeling of longing away because you're sure you're drunk on him. Kaiser's always been known to kiss his fans, but he kisses his haters even harder.

"SAE ITOSHI, apologize this instant!" Kaiser mimics their manager, arms crossed and voice in an ear-gratingly, squeaky high pitch. Almost condescendingly, he grabs the keyboardist by the hair and forces his gaze down - to the point where he's at a 90-degree bow. "How could you treat a young lady like that?!" He scoffs as Sae swats Kaiser's hand off of his hair, clicking his tongue, irritation crystalline clear.

"R-Really, it's okay...!" You try to get a word in, raising your hands awkwardly to try and ease the situation. Kaiser is dead set on humiliating Sae, though; he's planning to get a good laugh like the carefree narcissist he is. You have to visibly hold back your laughter, heaps of air gathering in your lungs, and it bubbles in your chest. Sae straightens himself out, clearing his throat as he looks down at you from on the stage. Hopping off the platform to get on your level, the only thing separating the both of you is the railing set up for crowd control (and the bodyguards), he lets out a deep sigh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get your shirt wet and... I hope I didn't ruin the performance for you," He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and cranes his neck to look away, not out of shame, though. Rather, Sae isn't sure where he's supposed to look. Your see-through white shirt is drenched, and the lacy black bra you have under is clear as day (though it is partially your fault for wearing black under white - Sae's gone through enough girlfriends to know that women are aware of these things, but he'll admit his faults and apologize anyway.) To be frank, he finds the event a blessing in disguise; you're gorgeous in lace, but he wouldn't say that aloud lest he be considered a pervert.

It was already past midnight, and the concert had ended, fans still stuck around to snag a photo with their favourite member, though. Seeing you at the front of the crowd (and the obvious 'accident' with your shirt), Kaiser caught him staring and decided to be a bigmouth. Swooping in like the playboy he is, he acted all righteous when he heard what happened and well... Sae Itoshi has his head bowed like a little boy apologizing to their mother.

"I'll make it up for you, yeah?" he states firmly, and the air shifts when you agree oh-so-sweetly. Ladies first, he would say, to avoid staring at your chest, but you could feel eyes glued to the mound of your ass from under your miniskirt.

He's making it up to you, alright, with his knee between your thighs. Long, slender fingers slip up your skirt, and the lacy black panties you have under make his star-etched pupils morph into hearts right before your lovestruck eyes. He's patient, he's graceful, and he's deft with every kiss to the point it makes you feel hungry. Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae plays on the radio, and he cages you onto the cushioned seats.

Your legs wrap around his waist like poison ivy, and there's sweet venom every time your collar is stained royal purple. His tongue dances on your skin, and it's even more mind-numbing when his tongue traces yours. With a gasp, or a squeal, or maybe a mix of both, you wonder how long it's been and why he's torturing you like this, and your eagerness tastes like honey to Sae.

Sae swears he's never met a girl so noisy before, but hell if he cares. He wouldn't mind if he met you after every performance, or if he snuck you into the studio to have you right there and then whenever that bastard Kaiser opens his mouth. Bleary-eyed and half-lidded, he thinks you look cute like this and, damn, his eyes weren't lying when you looked good in lace. He almost feels bad. You swear your skin feels like it's on fire, and he's your fuel. You breathe him like oxygen and he's as starved as you, he never knew what air felt like before you.

Sae's fingers, the ones that used to be so rough from playing the guitar with his little brother, the ones that have grown long from years of playing the keyboard, slip under the waistband of your lacy panties. He whispers apologies that he doesn't mean, and he swears to buy you another set as soon as possible. You don't care about his apology, you knew he was a half-hearted bastard the moment he blatantly ogled at you earlier. What's more important is the new set and this perverted idiot better give you another stress-relieving night for the trouble he's put you through! You know Sae Itoshi always keeps his promises.

RIN ITOSHI, the exceptional newbie in the band. Introduced as the 2nd electric guitarist, he hid his prior connections with Sae Itoshi to avoid accusations of being a mere product of nepotism. People had already acknowledged his skills by the time the truth spread. He didn't really catch your eye in terms of personality. He was as reclusive as his older brother but more vocal with his thoughts. If his brother had an "enigmatic" appeal to him, he would be "unapproachable".

"He's cute, isn't he?" Your friend playfully hums by the shell of your ear, and you shrug indifferently in response. Your gaze trawls through his black leather jacket, which looks like it was inherited from someone older, with its sleeves folded to the middle of his forearms. His stringed necklace dangles down to his electric guitar when he slouches, calloused fingers hovering over the strings. "Pretty good for someone new..." Your friend continues, her own eyes the furthest thing from chaste. Yet, instead of chiding her, you'll be the one apologizing sooner or later - you couldn't catch anything she said when Rin happened to glance up in your direction, no less. Coincidence or not, his tongue peeks out of his mouth, the pink muscle running over his lips.

Slim teal eyes narrow at you sharply when you don't look away immediately. You stare back as if you haven't sensed his annoyance and sheer arrogance, and you're utterly shameless about it too. As if mocking the guitarist, you stick your tongue out before openly running it over the canvas of your teeth.

You pass it off as flirting with no goal in mind, especially when his face scrunches up in belying disgust. It was nothing more than passive teasing, the kind of thing you'll dream about when the boys you know act stupid and the tension you'll crave when life gets dull. It's something you'll romanticize for the rest of your life until Rin Itoshi is muddled in a scandal, and you can't see anything attractive in those piercing eyes.

Well, you were half-right.

"Isn't your friend looking for you?" he half-mocks with a tone that makes you want to slap him stupid until the apple of his cheeks is as swollen as your cherry red lips. His mouth is as dirty as it tastes, and he doesn't know how to treat a woman at all. There's nothing remotely sweet about Rin, but the naivety blinding him - convincing him silently that he doesn't want this as bad as you do - is caramel on your tongue.

He's too young and dumb, your voice of reason echoes in the expanse of your skull, and you're sure he hasn't locked the door, but he's already kissed you silly. The black dressing room table feels a little shaky whenever his tongue slips into your mouth, or perhaps your whole world is shaking because of him. Your back crams against the mirror, and the warmth of the LED strips make your brain fuzzy. Eagerness and embarrassment conflict when he holds your waist, rough fingertips shyly slipping under the hem of your shirt and tapping against your skin as if asking for permission. His hesitation is evident when you pull away and the thought of upsetting you strangely eats him whole.

Your chest heaves up and down, off-beat from the temperamental percussion of your heart. "You're asking that now?" you manage out whilst guiding his curious hands further under your shirt, "Sweetheart, don't act like you're worried someone will catch us." Catching your breath, you yearn to lose it again as you lean forward for another round, the white quartz of his stringed necklace cold against your skin once he flips your shirt up.

You can't tell if the lights are flickering or if the flash of a camera has caught you so vulnerable, like putty and moulded into Rin's embrace. But, you don't care, and Rin seems to care even less with the way he whispers sticky sugar promises to buy you another Dior lip gloss and a new bag to boot. It'll be his first scandal if the paparazzi have caught the both of you, but you'll celebrate it with a bottle of champagne in the walls of his apartment, for sure.

Taglist: @dewwberry, @mikmwehehe

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itzy-bitsy-spidey · 3 days ago

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"Old enemies and spilled coffee pt.4"

Or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt 4"

Shadow the hedghog x reader (platonic)

Notes: I know I´m taking my time to actually make Shadow, well, do something, but we are right there, I swear. As always, if you want to be on the taglist leave a comment, and if you just want to leave a comment I don´t mind either.

Btw, idk if this is obvious but I am NOT proofreading anything of what I'm writing. Enjoy!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

You had already taken your alien-ish friend out of the box and laid it down on your bed so that it would be more comfortable. Once again you had doubted yourself over how comfortable it could possibly be, but as long as it couldn´t act in a way that showed uncomformity then it would have to deal with what it was given.

You had agreed to have lunch at your uncle´s house the next day. But in the meantime you had texted your aunt Maddie to ask her to come over to the house you were staying in under the pretense that you would share some pastries and talk about life for a while.

And so you sat on the couch waiting for time to pass and hoping that Maddie would be there soon. And, just like an angel sent from heaven, the doorbell rang and you sprinted to open the door.

On the other side awaited your lovely aunt with a huge smile on her face which reflected your own excitement. Hugs that lasted a little more than necessary and greetings were exchanged, you invited her inside and prepared tea, all while she talked about how much you had grown, how much she had missed you, etc.

"So how´s life? Any cute work friend I should know about or something?" Of course that would be between the questions, it was an aunt´s classic.

"No, everything has been rather boring actually, I mean, I was working at the salon back at home last month because they were short on staff, but truthfully? The gossip was the only entretaining part" You answered as you stirred your coffee, she had chosen chamomille tea.

"Uhhh, does that mean you can braid my hair now?" She asked with a smile as she sipped her tea and proceded to add more sugar to it.

That was one of the reasons you loved Maddie so much (not the sugar part) but the fact that she never juged your style of working, you were a freelance artist, so all the time you weren´t actively working on a project you would spend doing some minor jobs. Usually people would be all over you telling you to ´get a real job´ or stuff like that, but never Maddie, she was your ride or die, you could tell her that you were gonna climb the Everest and she would cheer you from the bottom.

That was why it came so handy that she was a vet. She probably wouldn´t even question the fact that you had brought a weirdly shaped animal all the way across the state. She trusted you, and you trusted her.

"Maddie, there´s something you should know, and I need you to remain calm and trust me, okay?"

She looked at you for a few seconds, her expression getting serious, and as she looked you dead into your eyes she asked softly:

"Is it that you are gay?"

"What! No!"

"OH, sorry, I thought this was like you getting out of the closet or..."

"No, I didn´t mean that I´m not gay, that was not what I was going to tell you!"

"Wait, so you are gay then?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, I just thought that was the topic we were discussing"

At some point between the exchange you both had broken into laughter, and somehow half of your coffe laid then spilled onto the table.

"I-I am so confused hahaha" she tried to speak in between laughs, but you could see how she was struggling to breathe, laugh and talk at the same time.

While still in your happy state you cleaned up the coffee puddle with a rag and took in a few breaths to relax. Once there was air in your lungs once more, and she had calmed down as well, you continued.

"I brought an... animal with me from home, and it kind of seems to be in like a coma? I would appreciate it if you took a look at it." You explained.

"You brought an animal in a coma all the way to Green Hill? That could be very dangerous for it" She scolded you slightly as she got up from her seat to follow you to the bedroom.

"I know, but it´s like nothing I had ever seen before, and I only trust you for this"

"Does this have something to do with your mother not letting you keep pets? Because you are an adult, you can have pets if you take care of them"

You stood in front of the door and looked at her a little bit as if she had lost her mind.

"No, that´s not it, but you have to promise that you won´t say a word to nobody"

She answered an "I promise" under her breath and you opened the door slowly, allowing her into the room. Maddie didn´t scream, neither did she look back at you as she entered the room. You stayed a little behind, just waiting for some type of reaction.

Maybe if you had been by her side you would have seen the way she frowned, as every little detail on the creature in front of her fell in place perfectly with the description that Sonic, her son, had given her about the hedghog who tried to kill her husband.

She knew it was a dangerous being, but laying down on that bed among the fluffy pillows he just looked... so calm.

Silence reigned the room for a few moments, and for some reason you felt that as if the air had become thick. She approached Shadow and lifted his limbs one by one, making sure that none of his bones were broken, even squeezing a little harder than necesary. And then, Maddie turned around with a smile, walked up to you, ruffled your hair, told you that it was unlikely that the thing would be asleep for longer than three days and left with the excuse of having to buy groceries.

And so, after the sound of the front door closing, as you were looking the way your aunt had left you were once more on your own.

And, if you hadn´t turned back around, you would have probably missed the sight of red eyes fluttering open.

Taglist: @boogiemansbitch @vxllys @whoisgami @baby-bloos @sapphireravensworld

#shadow x reader #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow #shadow x oc #shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow the hedgehog #sonic movie 3 #pretzel lady #donut lord #shadow the hedgehog x reader

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slimepuparibaba · 2 days ago

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Chaos in Linkon: AU where each of the LADS guys have an MC and also they all know each other

I want to make something like Chibi Linkon Report except it's with me and my friends and sisters MCs alongside the Love Interests and they all know each other

The MCs are like this:

Xavier's MC is one of the best sword wielders and an overall kind and caring hunter who helps people and is just as much a Disney Princess as Xavier who loves to garden and loves animals... but also she's a chronic insomniac and cannot sleep for her life, appears at Xavier's bedroom door like a sleep paralysis demon at 3AM, standing there silently, not wanting to wake him up so she just stands there. Her average amount of sleep is 1 hour. It's bad. It's really bad. Please help her. It's not even nightmares, it's just she literally cannot sleep.

Zayne's MC is seen as a role model in the workplace for her maturity, her poise, a reliable older sister figure to everyone... also she cannot taste anything, her taste buds don't work, so she likes the most extreme kind of food, accidentally gave Zayne the food she prepared for herself, it was way too fucking spicy to actual inhumane standards. Also, has a slight fear of doctors, just does not like visiting the hospital, going to checkups, etc. Zayne literally has to coax her for any of her check-ups with a date or a movie night after the fact. Her visits would be less frequent if she just stopped overworking herself so much (workaholic).

Rafayel's MC is beauty and grace, always wearing a smile and it's rare to see her upset about anything, a very cheerful person! She loves music, loves the ocean, perfect compliment to Rafayel! ...but also she is actually very scary, loves tragedy and horror and thrillers and slashers, and one time Rafayel walked in on her in the kitchen as she was holding a knife and there was red on her face (it was from some ketchup, but she looked terrifying). The moment she stops smiling is the day Linkon will be destroyed. Also, she cannot draw.

Sylus' MC is a temperamental girl that's sharp-tongued and strong-willed, as well as very headstrong. Sylus of Onychinus is her mortal enemy... until they're in a private space, then she's constantly seeking out his attention and getting pampered by him. Jumpy, actually a cat, and only fights Sylus because that's her love language apparently. She also has a corkboard in Onychinus' base solely for her insane ramblings about any conspiracies about Ever or the Aether Core and has lost sleep explaining it to him (and he just watches before putting her to bed).

Caleb's MC is the sweet, adorable little sister figure everyone loves, and is relatively shy at first glance but very friendly and a bit of a nerd! She also makes plushies for her friends! ...but also touch Caleb and you're dead. No, seriously, touch him and you're dead. She knows everything about Caleb, she has known him since they were kids, if anyone even thinks of hurting him or taking him away from her, they are dead. Touch him and you're dead. Did you know she made a plushie of him to keep her company while he was away, and that she stole one of his hoodies? And by one, we mean multiple? Do not touch her gege. Touch her gege and you're dead. That is her gege, her gege is hers, he is literally hers, she is just as much his as he is hers, do not fucking TOUCH HER GEGE—

Basically, all the girls are the same but also slightly different from their love interest. They compliment each other well.

Also the boys regularly hang out with the girls and it's funny because of how much of a found family all of them seem to be.

The girls all already see each other as sisters, so they're very close and like to spend time with one another. They give each other advice, drop by each other's apartments... they were all with each other during the initial days of the shelter due to being experimented on for the Aether Core (Yes, all of them have Aether Core fragments and are deemed Experiments 001-a, 001-b, 001-c, 001-d, and 001-e. They're part of the same Experiment Line due to their aether cores being so similar to each other.) Each girl has a super strong resonation with their partner. They can only exist in a universe where their partner is. This timeline is unique because all of them are now existing at once in one place at the same time, which is an abnormality and why Ever wants them so bad.

The boys "hate" each other with every fiber of their being, typically finding ways to insult each other or poke fun of someone. But also they all are definitely brothers in arms and do care for each other (somewhat, they would never admit it). Despite not knowing all the details, they know of each others' circumstances. All agree that if the time comes, they'd put aside their differences for the sake of their loved ones and try to reach a conclusion all of them would be satisfied with.

They're a mixed friend group that do hang out pretty often, and one of them somehow named themselves the "Aether Core Investigation Team".

I wanna post more about this AU and maybe make small drawings or comics of them cuz I just think it's fun.

Also Caleb mentioning there was an Experiment 001-f off-handedly to the guys and the guys immediately questioning who the fuck it is, where she went, as well as who their soul resonates with and why no one heard anything about them, only to say he was the only one who remembered they existed because all the others in the Experiment 001 line died and forgot. 001-f just randomly disappeared after that, so he does not know who they are or where they are anymore or if they even exist. AKA 001-f will be made once the 6th LI comes out and we finally coax one of our friends into finally playing the game.

ALSO FUN FACT: ALL MCS ARE NAMED AND HAVE BEEN MENTIONED SOMEWHERE ON AO3 BEFORE, BUT I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO WROTE ABOUT THEM! IT WAS MY SISTER! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA FIND OUT WHERE, IT'S A FIC FROM CALEB'S MC'S PERSPECTIVE :D

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace xavier #xavier #zayne #rafayel #sylus #caleb

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thanosscross · 14 hours ago

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Found - Dad! Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P & Idol! Teen! Reader

Summary: Growing up you always had one best friend, your mom, especially after your dad had left you before you were born. So what happens whenever a new career path ends your life-long search for your Appa?

Warnings: None that I can really think of, but if I miss one please let me know lovelies!

Translations:

Ttal-a : Daughter. An informal way for a parent to address their daughter.

You grew up being your mom's best friend, after your father had left her before you were born, it only left the two of you to take care of each other. You were an amazing daughter in your mother's eyes, always doing more than what was asked of you, even if it meant giving up something you wanted or needed.

Even through all of it, you were still weighed down by a question you had for so long, you couldn't remember a time where you didn't have it. It was basically what formed you into the determined person you are today, Who was the man who helped make you? What did he contribute in making you? Did you have his eyes? Or maybe the facial structure you had never been able to match to any of your other relatives on your mother's side. You had so many questions, that you'd always be grounded for asking, so you devoted your free time in trying to find that man, determined to find out everything about your father's family, I mean, they were your family too, right?

Your search would become severely delayed whenever you confidently signed on to an Agency to become a new idol, hoping that it'd come out at least a little successful. It wasn't a secret you came from a rougher side of the city, a small home, with broken floorboards, barely livable, but you did what you could to make it safe for your mother, especially with her worsening health. You'd spend days at a time, training at the agency, if you weren't in training, you were recording and rehearsing for your debut album, and if you weren't doing that? You'd be in meetings with different staff members, if not that? You were doing whatever you could for your mom.

As you'd start to grow in fame, your fans would take notice to certain similarities between you and another Idol, you'd be honored by their theories, with your style of music really ranging, it mainly had one common variant in each song, your ability to rap, being able to rap over 10.13 Syllables per second. The way they'd constantly swear T.O.P from BigBang was a long lost brother, or father, would always charm you, you'd look up to the rapper, especially with him basically setting the bar for any and all K-pop rappers, it was an extreme compliment for you to be compared to him.

You'd never meet T.O.P until your manager would pull him into your first stage rehearsal, it'd be three weeks before you first show, so everybody on your team was stressed, especially whenever you and your chorographer couldn't figure out what you'd do while rapping one of your verses. With rapping, it took a lot of air out of you, especially trying to keep your pitch and keep up with the backtracks, so you couldn't move much, if you'd jump around, run, or dance, you'd surely run out of air before the verse ended, but you also couldn't just stand there. "Y/n! Our little Aein! This is T.O.P, I'm sure you know of him, he's going to help your little problem" YG would cheer, introducing you both before disappearing again into the hall, most likely going to check on other idols and trainees. "Hello, you can just call me Seung Hyun, it's a pleasure to meet you, I've heard you in the studio before, you're rapping is crazy" He smiled, laughing a bit as you both bowed in sync with each other "Nice to meet you! I'm y/n, but you know that" You smiled softly before backing up slightly as your choreographer took over the conversation, as you watched the two converse, you couldn't brush off the feeling of familiarity towards the man, but you couldn't quite place it.

You'd end up spending almost three more hours working on the rest of your choreography, finally calling it quits whenever Seung Hyun spotted you asleep against the wall. He was impressed, for such a young teenager, you were determined to make waves in the industry, yes you were only 17, but you were ready, your kindness and professionalism winning over YG and the others, almost immediately.

You'd barely remember getting home, as you woke up in your own bed, glancing around before you made your way out to the kitchen hearing your mother talking with somebody over the phone. As she finished her phone call, you tiredly sat at the counter, resting your head on your hands as you yawned. "That was your manager, he said you're doing well with your fans" She smiled towards you, handing over a plate of breakfast as she sat next to you "I know! They're so amazing, and they keep coming up with these awesome theories about who my dad might be" You smiled, not noticing her disgusted look, you never understood why she wouldn't ever talk about your father, other than to bash him, and to remind you that he left you, and she stayed. "Some people think it's rapper, T.o.p?" You added on, smiling softly as she looked at you confused "Who would ever name their child, T.o.p?" She asked, her tone dripping in annoyance and disgust "Well, that's his stage name, his real name is Choi Seung Hyun" You replied, jumping slightly as her hand slammed against the counter "That name will not be spoken in my home!" She screamed, you quickly stood up, going to apologize, only to have interrupted by her pointing to the door aggressively. Getting her message, you walked out of the front door, confused, standing there for a moment before pulling out your phone.

You weren't sure who to call, it was still pretty early, but you needed a ride to YG's agency building, walking that far would be damn near impossible to do, especially with you needing to be there, in about 32 minutes. As you held your phone to your ear, you sat on the curb anxiously picking at your socks, only now realizing, you were still in nightclothes and no shoes, but if your Umma wanted you out, who were you to argue? It'd be disrespectful as a daughter if you did. "Hello?" You heard a deep sleepy voice call through the phone, you were hesitant to speak at first, only whenever you realized he might fall back asleep, you spoke "Hey..Um..It's Y/n, are you free?" You asked nervously, hearing the older male sigh, you started to regret calling him, why not call YG? He might've been able to help. "Y-Yea yea, what's..what's going on?" Seung Hyun tiredly asked as he rolled out of the bed, running a hand over his face as he tried to wake himself up more "So...I think my mom might hate you.." You whispered, leaning your head down to rest on your knees "I brought you up..and she kicked me out..I don't know how long for- and! I'm not asking for a place to stay, I-I just..need a ride" You rambled, your anxiety starting to build whenever you heard nothing in reply, it took a moment for Seung Hyun to wrack his brain; maybe that's why your last name sounded so familiar. "Who's your mom?" He asked as he started to get dressed, not planning on leaving you to walk to the agency building. "Y/m/n l/n" You replied, pulling your nightshirt tighter around you as the morning rush started to pick up more, you could hear Seung Hyun's small huff through the phone "I'll be there in about...ten?" He replied, not really replying to your answer before the phone call was cut off. Why were both him and your mom acting so strange? Did they have something going on together?...was he..?

It would be six weeks of you both getting to know each other and picking up on each other's similar habits between you both, there was just something so familiar about each other, but neither of you could place it. Seung Hyun felt a connection towards you, always wanting to make sure you were on the right track, you had everything you needed, and you were protected; You felt almost the same, you just felt calm and safe whenever you were with Seung Hyun, it wasn't that you didn't normally feel safe, but you knew if you needed anything, even if it was a pretty rough situation, you could always call him for help. Your new friendship only fueled fan rumors that Seung Hyun was your father even more, especially with how you interacted during the family concerts, your manager would hold after your debut.

After a while though, Seung Hyun took notice to the fact, you'd never really do what you wanted, he never saw you doing any hobbies, or anything really other than work and favors for others. So, one night he'd find you in the recording studio, sitting at the table as you scrolled on your laptop, groaning loudly whenever you hit another dead end. You were getting so close to giving up, starting to believe maybe your dad just wasn't there out, or at least, wanted nothing to do with you. "Hey...What's going on? Need help?" He offered quickly, taking in your pissed off state, you reminded him of your mother, he'd still be oblivious to the fact he was the person you were looking for, instead, only knowing himself as one of your mother's exes. "No, No. I'm um- working" You rambled, scrambling to close your laptop, turning your attention towards him as you sighed "Working, yes, I am also working then- stop lying and tell me what's up" He replied sarcastically before his tone turned serious as he sat down next to you. "Fine, but you can't..tell anybody" You huffed, opening your computer back up to show him everything you had found out so far from your grandmother and aunt about your dad "I just..want to find him, and I know it probably sounds weird and creepy, but I just-" Seung Hyun cut your rambling off by coughing slightly "It's not either of those things, you're just a kid who misses a parent" He replied, scooting closer to read over what was presented on the screen. Seung Hyun had to hide his nervousness as he read further down the list, as he got to the end, he started to do the math in his head, feeling his heart drop slightly whenever he started to get a feeling maybe your mother wasn't entirely truthful about their break-up.

Seung Hyun did his best to stay calm for the rest of the night, not wanting to give you any false hopes, especially with the way you were speaking of your hopes of one day finding him. The next morning though? He was already out of his home as soon as the sun came up, making his way towards your old residence, you now happily living in one of the dorms at the agency building. Whenever your mother ended things with him, she had told this elaborate story about how she was too old to chase around a K-pop idol, being almost five years younger than her, he believed it, not really thinking much of it. As he knocked on your mother's front door though, he started to heavily question her story, which caused frustration to start growing inside of his body. "Hell- No! Get out of here!" Your mother shouted loudly, glaring daggers at Seung Hyun as she huffed, not wanting to accept the fact her almost 18-year-old lie was finally busted. "Y/m/n. We need to speak about Y/n" He demanded, ignoring your mother's protests as he entered the familiar home, it had severely fallen apart since he had been here last, but everything was still in its original place. "Y/n is my daughter. only mine! You have no right coming into my home! You- You disrespectful-" Seung Hyun was quick to cut your mother off with a harsh glare and a scoff "I don't care if I'm disrespecting you! Unless you were unfaithful while we were together- you know as much as I do, That poor kid has grown up without a dad, because of you" He snapped, standing in his spot next to the door as your mother stepped closer, poking his chest as she stood on her tip toes to get in his face "No! Because you weren't capable of being a father! It's your fault! You were young and immature!" She shouted back, hatred dripping from her tone as Seung Hyun took a step back, laughing sarcastically "How could you possibly know, if you never let me know you were having my kid!" He shouted back, freezing whenever he heard the door next to him open "U-Umma?" You whispered, standing in shock as you stared at the both of them, was he serious? You could tell by their shocked and scared facial expressions; you had finally found out the truth. "Y/n.." Seung Hyun started before you took off back out of the door, needing a moment to wrap your head around the information overload you had just received. "Just let her go, she needs time" Your mother huffed, glaring towards your dad one final time "Get. the fuck. out" She snapped, glaring at her in return, Seung Hyun quickly rushed out, calling your name as he tried to spot what way you went.

You'd be walking down the street whenever Seung Hyun would find you, again, your face bright red from the cold wind, and your cheeks stained with tears. Why was your mom acting so hateful lately? Why did they both hide who your father was? Did Seung Hyun know the entire time? What was Seung Hyun saying about not knowing? You were pulled out of your thoughts by a car door shutting, and quick footsteps behind you. "Y/n! Y/n! Would you just stop for a moment!" Seung Hyun demanded, you quickly halted in your spot, slowly turning around to face him "I-I really don't want to talk to you or my mom right now, I'm sorry" You replied softly, feeling bad for saying it, but you just continued on your trail, only stopping whenever your father grabbed your wrist gently "At least get in the car, and get a ride to, I assume, work" Seung Hyun pleaded, he felt terrible for what you were going through, absolutely terrible, but he was also in a whirlwind himself, he was a dad? He had been a dad for the last 17 years? Does that make him a bad one, for not being there?

You'd sit in silence the entire ride, only speaking again whenever Ji-Yong slowly made his way into your recording studio, a place you found yourself being in a lot. "Hey..kiddo" He whispered awkwardly, not really knowing how to start the conversation, you just sighed, turning in your chair to face him. "Seung Hyun told you?" You asked, pulling your knees to your chest as you watched him take a seat on the sofa in front of you. "He told me his feelings. How he feels terrible, that he wasn't there for you, but I don't think it's his fault" Ji-Yong stated, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he waited for a response. "I don't..know..How can you just not know you have a whole child?" You asked, you still weren't sure how to process your situation, you just felt hurt and confused at the moment. Ji-Yong nodded at your words, taking a moment before leaning back against the sofa "I know it's hard to hear, but he really had no idea, kiddo. I know my hyung, we've been best friends for..well forever, and I know if he did know about having a daughter, he would've done everything for you." He explained, getting choked up by his own words as he remembered how hurt and upset Seung Hyun looked whenever he busted into their shared dorm. "I just don't understand why my mom hid it from me, and even then..who says he wants to be my dad? I'm almost an adult now, a-and I mean, I'm not exactly the best crayon in the box, so why would he?" You rambled, hugging your knees tighter around you, as you felt tears building in your eyes; You had always imagined how it would be, if you finally met your father, but now you were just scared. What if he didn't want or like you as a daughter? What if all of those interactions between you both were just pity? Or something he had to do for work?

"Y/n. I couldn't tell you why your mother hid that from you, I'm sorry..but I can't, kiddo..What I can tell you, is that you are amazing, you're not even an adult yet and how many times have your songs been on the top five? But I think the rest of this conversation, should be with you and your father, I can only tell you so much about how he truly feels, he can tell you better than I can" He whispered, nodding towards the door, you took a deep breath before standing up "I-Is he mad at me?..for not talking to him?" You whispered, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands nervously, Ji-Yong just shook his head smiling, noticing how much you reminded him of your father.

You slowly entered the BigBang dorm, and into the bedroom, your eyes quickly meeting your father's as you froze, taking in how utterly broken he looked. His hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot from tears, along with his cheeks being tear-stained. "I-I'm so sorry" He started, you just quietly walked over, hugging him tightly, trying your best to hold back your tears as you felt him sob against your shoulder. "I don't blame you..and I'm not that mad at you..but I know you figured it out the other night" You whispered, trying your best to get him to stop crying, you hated it, you hated anybody crying, your biggest goal in life was trying to make others smile, so crying was the exact opposite of what you wanted. "You didn't have a father" He whispered, hugging you tightly, still in disbelief that he had a daughter, an almost adult daughter at that. "I was a pretty good Oppa to myself" You joked, trying yet again to get him to laugh, only proving slightly successful as he stopped crying, not wanting to pull away from the hug yet. "You shouldn't have had to be a father to yourself, or take care of yourself and your mom, I-I should've been there" He whispered, pulling away from your hug for a moment to have you sit next to him at the end of the bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders gently as he hugged you again "You hug a lot, you know that right?" You laughed, trying to lean away from him, only for him to pull you right back into a hug "I have to make up for seventeen years of hugs, and 'I'm proud of you'- Oh my god! Am I proud of you? So much! I have one of the biggest Idols as my kid! I'm going to brag about that to everybody!" He rambled, causing you to smile softly, your mom had hated the fact you were an Idol, yes, she loved the benefits that came with being an Idol, but she hated everything else about it, so hearing someone close to you was proud, made you want to cry now.

You both sat for what felt like hours, just talking about everything he had missed in your early years of childhood. Eventually you both ended up at his home, him insisting you ate a real dinner, instead of the same cheap pack of noodles every night. As you sat at the kitchen island, you watched as he started plating the food "Do you know why...Umma hid who you were? Why'd you leave? Was it me?" You whispered, tilting your head slightly, wanting to know exactly what the two of them were arguing about, whenever you had walked into your mom's house. "Your mom had her reasons..they weren't very fair reasons...but she had them, As for leaving, I did, but I didn't at the same time, your mom ended things, telling me it was about my career, turns out, it was because she didn't want to share such an amazing kid with any other parents" He explained, not wanting to bash your mother, especially not to you, while he despised your mother for what she had done, he wasn't going as low as talking badly about her to her daughter. "You don't have to lie..I heard you guys through the door, partially" You protested, watching him drop his head in shame with a sigh "She didn't think I was capable of raising a kid" He whispered, hating that he was even talking about the topic with you, frustrated you just shook your head, smacking your hands down on the table "That's so stupid! I wasn't even born yet! How would she know!?" You shouted, standing up as you started to pace the kitchen floor, running a hand through your hair before Seung Hyun stopped you by grabbing your hoodie sleeve gently, pulling you back over to the counter "I agree, I agree, but it's time to eat, so get to the table" He laughed, motioning you away as he followed behind with two plates, and his glass of wine.

After dinner, you were laid sprawled out on the living room floor, Seung Hyun sitting a few feet away on his couch "Please don't die in my floor" He laughed after a moment, watching as you turned your head to look at him "I will die wherever I please, but I might just sleep here" You huffed, moving to slowly climb onto the couch, the meal Seung Hyun had made was absolutely amazing, one of the bests you've ever had. "I don't care if you sleep here, I've got a sofa, or a guest bed, or you can take my room, and I'll take the guest bed" He offered, pointing to each door as he spoke, you just laughed shaking your head "I'll take the guest room, it's your house, and you're like..an old man" You joked, laughing softly as he gave you an offended look, standing up to make your way to the guest room, feeling like you'd fall asleep any moment, you stopped to look back at Seung Hyun. "If it means anything...I think you would've been an awesome Appa..I think you're already an awesome Appa" You whispered before offering him a soft smile, your dad had to hold back tears as he smiled at you softly "It means the world, I think you're an awesome Ttal-a, Y/n" He replied, his voice cracking as he resting a hand over his eyes for a moment, trying his best to hide his tears. "I know" You giggled before shutting the door behind you, moving to lay down on the most comfortable bed, you had ever touched.

As you fell asleep, you contemplated how you were going to talk to your Umma again after this, or even what you'd say. You didn't let yourself think too hard though, falling asleep rather quickly as you heard your father's muffled voice from the living room, most likely on the phone with someone. As you fell asleep, you noticed something you hadn't ever felt before, when falling asleep, you felt comfortable, with no worries, knowing the only thing you had to deal with tomorrow was work. Your life-long search was finally over, yes it hadn't happened how your younger self always pictured, but you wouldn't change it, and you definitely wouldn't change who your Appa was, because for once in your life, you were happy with the answers you had gotten.

What do we think lovelies? I am SO SO SO Sorry this took so long to post :( My week has been the craziest I've had yet, plus I had my younger brother over for majority of the week, but behold! My newest fic, with more to come!! My likely my next story will 100% be a wedding fic 0.0 so make sure to keep an eye out for me lovely ;)

Taglist!!

@onyxmango

@ag02212023

@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@seunghyunwifey

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

@lilou0401

@maenoakasuna

@ericityyy

@frangiipanii

@seunghyunwifey

@sturnioloslut-b

@isssaaaa2111

@goodnight-n-go-home

@skzdreamz

@enhasrii

@sunhyeswife

@ilovethe141

@saraaisfree

@sassyyoyo

@i-might-be-vanny

@cheese10001

@live-laugh-lovef1

@c1delight

@blue-sky336

@sherrayyyyy

@forevervibezzzz1

#choi seunghyun #t.o.p x reader #top x reader #t.o.p #t.o.p icons #t.o.p bigbang #dad! choi seung hyun x reader #choi seung hyun x reader #bigbang x reader #bigbang #g dragon bigbang #g dragon bigbang x reader

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teriri-sayes · 2 days ago

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Reactions to The Worst's Chapter 398

New title - 51. You dare to stab me in the back?

Brief summary: Raon carries Eden on his back. Sheritt and Eden meet. Cale and CH head to the Lan Kingdom.

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Because of Clopeh spreading the video throughout New World and user forums, the system decided to postpone giving Cale his reward. Clopeh congratulated Eden and praised his nickname, but Eden avoided Clopeh. Of course, when Clopeh said that Eden's future would be the stuff of legends, Eden's eyes were shaking. 😂😂😂

Raon carrying tiny Eden on his back was so cute!!! 🥰🥰🥰

Raon paused for a moment, considering something, and then grabbed Eden Miru by his two front paws. “!” Eden Miru was embarrassed. And Raon was a little flustered, too. 'He's small!' Eden Miru was too small. Raon felt a strange sensation that he couldn't quite place. Even though he knew Eden Miru's original age was over 900 years old, approaching a thousand years. Black scales like his own. And platinum-colored markings that reminded him of Goldie Gramps Eruhaben. Eyes the color of his human. And eyes that strangely reminded him of his mother, Sheritt. “Hehe!” Raon just laughed. Raon was too young, too great a dragon, to express all these emotions. Raon said to Eden Miru. “Stay close to my back, Eden Miru-ya!” Raon lifted Eden Miru onto his back. After all, Eden Miru was small. “!” Eden Miru seemed deeply embarrassed, but Raon didn't know it. Instead, he felt strangely energized by the small weight and warmth on his back. Raon clenched his front paws together in an unknown feeling. And he thought to himself. 'I'll protect Eden Miru, too!' Raon's mouth twitched with determination.

Cale thanked Clopeh for his hard work before leaving, not seeing Clopeh's smile vanish. Because for Clopeh, this was not over. 🤣🤣🤣

“…Thank you for your hard work-” It was a nice thing to hear. But- “It's all for the bigger picture.” Clopeh was more intense than Cale had realized. 'Eden Miru.' Boss of the 7th Evil. He was also one of Cale's subordinates, anyway. The Miru Knights, the 3rd Evil, the Eight Evils. All would be beneath Cale-nim. The legends they create would eventually become the foundation of a greater legend that Cale-nim would achieve. “Fufu.” It would be nice to hear that he had worked hard after everything was over. Clopeh slowly made his way to the window, thinking how very simple Cale was. “Light Dragon! Light Dragon!” The residents of the 7th Evil still cheered. “…In the end, the name they will call has been decided.” Lord Cale. Young Master Shield. That great name shall once again echo throughout this New World, throughout Earth 3, throughout all dimensions. “Kekekeke.” Clopeh's eyes sparkled, barely suppressing a laugh in the room were he was left alone.

Meanwhile, Cale was troubled on whether to include Eden (who's actually 900+ years old) as part of the average ten-years-old children. Because Eden's outward appearance was really cute, though Cale hated to say that. Even the 7th Evil residents were calling their lord cute.

Eden and Sheritt were still awkward with each other, but there was progress! 🥰🥰🥰

Instead, he focused his gaze on Eden Miru and Sheritt. “…….” “…….” Neither said anything. Cale noticed the redness at the corners of Sheritt's eyes and realized she was crying alone, but he pretended not to notice. “…….” Eden Miru opened his mouth. He'd done it a few times, but never quite managed to get the words out. Sheritt waited patiently for it with a smile. Eden Miru slid off Raon's back. Flap. Flap. He flapped his wings awkwardly as a newborn. “…….” He stopped in front of Sheritt. The portal. Through it, neither dragon could get any closer to the other. Eden Miru could not cross the portal now. Sheritt could not cross the portal either. “…….” Eden Miru lifted his head and looked at Sheritt. The smile on Sheritt's lips was as gentle as her age, despite her mischievous appearance. “…That-” Eden Miru spoke after a long pause. “I'm back.” Sheritt answered him. “Yeah. Welcome home.”

And that was it for Eden's birth. The second half of the chapter was Cale and CH returning to the Lan Kingdom because the wanderer threatening Queen Tamahi was due to visit tomorrow. So Cale and Tamahi came up with the plan to push all the blame to GoC's followers. 😂

They also agreed to transfer the wanderer Sohee from the Lan Kingdom's prison to the Eastern Empire's prison to avoid the visiting wanderer's eyes. ARM, who was now the crown prince of the Eastern Empire, agreed to the plan.

Ending Remarks So many cute and funny moments today! Next chapter would be Cale heading to the Eastern Empire. Would he finally meet the AI hyung of ARM?

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 1 day ago

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Home is at the track||F1!platonic grid x y/n l/n

Summary — y/n misses her sibling who she hasn’t seen since they left for the army luckily her team surprises her during her first win.

Word count 1k?

Y/N leaned her head against the side of her helmet, eyes shut tight as the minutes ticked down to lights out. The steady roar of engines around her was no help—she could still hear the pounding of her own heartbeat. Today could be the day. Her first podium. Maybe even her first win.

Her sibling’s voice echoed in her head. “You’ve got this, kid. Go show them what you’re made of.” They’d said it so many times that she could almost hear the smile in their voice. But it wasn’t the same. It hadn’t been the same for over a year. The military had taken them to places she didn’t even want to imagine, and while she couldn’t be prouder, the ache in her chest hadn’t dulled.

“Y/N.” Her engineer’s voice crackled over the radio, snapping her out of the spiral. “Focus. Deep breath. You know what to do.”

She nodded to herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m ready.”

She straightened, closing her eyes for one more breath—in, out—just as the first of the five lights illuminated.

One …

Two …

Three …

Four …

Five.

The lights went out, and everything else disappeared. No memories, no doubts—just the raw, electric focus that came with launching into a corner at 200 miles an hour.

The rain came out of nowhere by lap 15, slicking the track like ice. Cars spun out, littering the gravel traps, but Y/N held on with determination.

“You’re P2,” her engineer barked. “You’ve got this.”

Her arms burned, and her hands ached from gripping the wheel. Every turn was a fight, every straight a fragile reprieve. But she stayed locked on Landos rear wing, inching closer with each lap until the final one loomed ahead.

It was just her and Lando now, neck and neck in the unrelenting rain. Visibility was nonexistent, but Y/N didn’t care. She saw her chance—late on the brakes, diving into the corner. The car held.

The checkered flag blurred past.

“P1! You’re P1!” her engineer’s voice broke with emotion.

Y/N’s breath hitched, disbelief giving way to an ecstatic scream. “We did it! We did it!”

She parked in parc fermé, the team swarming her the moment she climbed out. Laughter, cheers, tears—she soaked it all in. But something felt incomplete.

Someone was missing. Her sibling had been watching from a quiet corner of the motorhome, heart in their throat as she pulled off that final move. They’d flown halfway across the world on a sliver of leave, hiding the whole time just to surprise her. Now, as she stood on the podium, bathed in camera flashes, they felt tears prick their eyes.

“She has no idea you’re here,” one of the team’s managers murmured beside them.

They smiled faintly, their voice thick. “She’s gonna kill me for this.”

The team gave them the signal. Standing on the top step of the podium, Y/N tried to stay present. The trophy was heavy in her hands, the national anthem blaring in her ears. But her eyes kept darting to the crowd. She knew it was silly—her sibling wasn’t here. They couldn’t be. They were probably watching on a tiny screen thousands of miles away.

The tears came before she could stop them, hot and unrelenting. She wiped them away quickly, forcing a smile as the champagne bottle was handed to her.

And then she heard it—a roar from the crowd, louder than before. She turned toward the commotion, confused. And there they were.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs was her sibling in their ACU’s holding their arms out for a hug. Gasping The bottle slipped from her hands, hitting the ground with a hollow thud. Her chest tightened, her breath catching. “No way,” she whispered.

“Miss me?” they called out, their voice just barely audible over the crowd.

She didn’t think—she leapt from the podium, sprinting into their arms. The trophy clattered to the ground, forgotten. She didn’t care.

“You’re here,” she sobbed into their shoulder, clinging to them like they might disappear again.

They held her just as tightly, their voice shaking. “Of course, I’m here. I couldn’t miss this.”

For a moment, the world faded. No cameras, no crowd—just them.

Hours later, the paddock was quiet. The celebration had wound down, leaving Y/N and her sibling on the motorhome steps, wrapped in a shared blanket.

“You pulled this off?” she asked, her voice raw.

“They did most of it,” they admitted, nodding toward her team. “I just showed up.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

They nudged her playfully, their own eyes red-rimmed. “I missed you too. And for the record? I’ve watched every race. You’ve been incredible, Y/N. You deserve all of this.”

She glanced at the trophy sitting nearby, running her fingers over the engraved plate. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re the reason I ever believed I could do this.”

Her sibling didn’t say anything, just pulled her into another hug. The silence between them spoke volumes.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x yn #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #formula one fluff #formula one #formula one fic

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mediocre-shark-tales · 3 days ago

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Abu Dhabi GP

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming

The paddock in Abu Dhabi was alive with speculation, buzzing with fans, journalists, and team members all eager for a hint about my future. The grand finale of the season always carried a mix of excitement and melancholy, but this year, there was an extra layer of uncertainty surrounding me.

The whispers had been growing louder ever since Lance’s recovery updates started trickling out. Aston Martin had been clear—Lance Stroll was close to returning, his seat waiting for him. And while I had known from the beginning that my position was temporary, the thought of leaving the grid now, after everything, was a weight I couldn’t fully ignore.

Walking through the paddock, I could feel the questions hanging in the air, the lingering glances from reporters and fans. Even the drivers seemed more cautious, their words carefully chosen whenever the topic of next season arose.

Max was one of the first to address it directly. During a quick chat before FP1, he leaned against the Red Bull garage, arms crossed. “So,” he started casually, though his tone betrayed genuine concern, “are you staying quiet on purpose, or do you not know what’s happening yet?”

I gave him a small, tight smile. “A little bit of both,” I admitted. “Nothing’s finalized, and I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up—including my own.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “You deserve a seat. Everyone knows it.”

The sentiment was echoed throughout the weekend. Charles stopped me in the paddock later that day, his usual friendly grin replaced with a more serious expression. “Whatever happens, you’ve proven you belong here,” he said firmly. “No one can take that away from you.”

But the most touching moment came from the fans. During the driver parade, the cheers for me were louder than I’d ever heard. Banners with my name and messages of support filled the grandstands, and one sign in particular caught my eye: “Wherever you go, we follow.”

It was overwhelming, the love and support from people who had seen me at my lowest and celebrated my highest moments.

Back in the Aston Martin motorhome, I sat with my PR team, discussing how to handle the inevitable questions during media duties. They suggested vague answers, emphasizing that nothing was confirmed yet. I nodded along, but deep down, I hated the ambiguity.

When I stepped into my first interview of the day, the question came up almost immediately.

“So, with Lance on the mend, fans are wondering—will we see you on the grid next season?” the journalist asked, their tone curious but careful.

I hesitated, choosing my words cautiously. “Right now, my focus is on finishing this season as strong as I can,” I said. “Beyond that, we’ll see what opportunities come my way. I’ve loved every moment of being part of this incredible sport, and I hope to continue being involved in some capacity.”

It wasn’t the answer they—or I—wanted, but it was the truth.

Later that evening, as I scrolled through social media, I saw countless posts speculating about my future. But among them were messages of hope, support, and belief in me. Fans declaring their unwavering loyalty, drivers posting subtle hints of solidarity.

One post from the official F1 account stood out: a photo of me with the caption, “No matter what the future holds, this season will never forget her name.”

As the weekend in Abu Dhabi carried on, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet excitement bubbling under the surface. After Thursday Media Duties, The contract had finally been signed. While the paddock was busy speculating about my future, the truth was something I was holding close to my chest, savoring the satisfaction of knowing that I would still be on the grid in some capacity next year.

My vague comments during interviews only fueled the rumors. I’d hinted at signing a contract once but kept the details shrouded in mystery. The fans and journalists seemed convinced that I had secured a seat with a different team for 2025. Theories ranged from Williams to Sauber, and I even overheard someone mention Haas. It was almost amusing to watch the speculation spread like wildfire.

After the final practice session, I found myself in a quiet corner of the paddock, scrolling through social media while sipping a bottle of water. The hashtags #WhereWillSheGo and #GridQueen were trending, alongside countless fan theories dissecting every interview I’d given that weekend.

“Are you enjoying the chaos you’re causing?” Lando teased, walking over with his trademark smirk.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean to cause chaos,” I said. “I just... I’m not ready to tell anyone yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So you do have something lined up.”

I gave him a pointed look, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he said with a chuckle, walking away.

What no one knew was that I had signed a unique deal. Starting in 2026, I would be joining Cadillac when they entered the grid as a new team. It was a dream opportunity, one that aligned with everything I wanted for my career. But instead of taking a year off before their debut, They’d struck an agreement to have me race the 2025 season on loan with VCARB.

The deal was a win-win. VCARB needed a driver who could perform well and help mentor their reserve driver, Isack Hadjar, a young talent brimming with potential. Isack had initially been slated to step in as the team’s driver for 2025, but VCARB wanted him to be fully prepared for the demands of the sport. Their solution? Pair him with someone experienced who could help him grow both on and off the track. And that someone was me. They also really liked the idea that Isack wouldn’t have to join F1 only for major changes to take place the following season, forcing him to relearn everything just as he might have found his style.

I had to admit, I liked the idea. Isack was promising, and mentoring him while continuing to race felt like the perfect way to stay sharp for 2026. It also meant I wouldn’t have to endure the uncertainty of sitting out an entire year, watching from the sidelines as the grid moved on without me.

By Sunday evening, the whispers had reached their peak. Reporters and fans alike were waiting for an announcement, but I kept my lips sealed. Even my closest friends on the grid were left in the dark. The only person who seemed to suspect anything was Fernando, who had an uncanny ability to read people.

“You’re too calm,” he remarked as we walked through the paddock. “Whatever happens next year, you already know where you’re going, don’t you?”

I smiled, shrugging. “Maybe.”

He gave me a knowing look but didn’t press further.

Free Practice 2 was supposed to be just another session to shake down the car and refine strategy, but this sport has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them. The sun blazed down on the Yas Marina Circuit, and I was just starting to settle into a rhythm, my mind locked on squeezing out every ounce of performance. My engineer, Landon, chimed in on the radio.

"Car looks good. Let’s get a couple of consistent laps here," he said, his voice calm.

I responded with a crisp, “Copy,” and pushed forward, picking up speed as I approached the next lap. The track felt alive beneath me, the vibrations of the car reverberating through my body. But everything changed in a split second.

Ahead, Jack Doohan misjudged the timing of an overtake attempt. I caught the movement in my mirrors as his front tire caught the rear of my car. It was like watching a nightmare unfold in slow motion. My car snapped out of control, the rear spinning violently to the left. An immense sense of deja vu washed over me at this moment. Before I could react further, Jack’s car slammed into my side, t-boning me with a force that jarred every bone in my body.

The impact left no time to breathe or recalibrate. The world spun again, and just as I began to process the collision, Alex Albon’s car collided with my rear. The second hit sent a thunderous jolt through me, and all three of us careened off the track. The barriers loomed closer at a terrifying speed until we slammed into them with a sickening crunch of carbon fiber and metal.

I felt the breath leave my lungs on impact. Pain radiated through my chest and arm, sharp and unforgiving. My ribs protested violently with every gasp of air, and my left arm throbbed with an intensity that made me want to scream. But I didn’t. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand—getting out.

The cockpit felt like a trap. Jack’s car was wedged into my side, and Alex’s car was pressed against my rear, pinning me in. I tried to move my arm to unclip my harness, but a wave of pain stopped me. I froze, forcing myself to push through it.

Through the haze of pain, I noticed Jack already climbing out of his car. He was moving fast, a look of panic etched on his face as he scrambled toward me. Moments later, Alex was there too, sprinting to help.

“You okay?!” Jack shouted, his voice laced with urgency.

I nodded weakly, though every inch of me screamed in protest. “Yeah... I’m fine,” I croaked, though the lie felt bitter on my tongue.

Alex and Jack worked together to help me climb out. Jack supported my right side as Alex steadied me, their hands firm but careful. I winced as my ribs protested the movement, but I kept quiet, refusing to let them see how much pain I was in.

Once I was clear of the wreckage, I leaned against the barrier for support, taking shallow breaths to avoid aggravating my chest. My vision blurred slightly, but I forced myself to stay upright, to project strength. The medics arrived within moments, but I waved them off.

“I’m okay,” I insisted, brushing off their concerns. “Just a bit shaken.”

Jack’s brows furrowed, and Alex crossed his arms, both clearly unconvinced. “You don’t look okay,” Alex said, his tone skeptical.

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, mustering a weak smile. “Just need a minute.”

They didn’t push further, though their worried glances lingered. The adrenaline coursing through my veins dulled the worst of the pain, and for now, I convinced myself it was nothing more than bruising.

Back in the paddock, I avoided the medical center, slipping away before anyone could insist on a check-up. My tolerance for pain had skyrocketed since the crash in Vegas, and I told myself this was no different. A few bruises, maybe a sore arm—nothing I couldn’t handle.

As I sat in the team’s garage, replaying the incident in my mind, a fresh wave of frustration washed over me. The crash hadn’t just shaken me physically—it felt like a cruel reminder of how fragile everything could be. But I couldn’t dwell on it. For now, I swallowed the pain and prepared to face the rest of the weekend, unaware that the fractures in my ribs and arm were more than just a passing ache.

The team worked tirelessly overnight to get the car back in shape. By the time FP3 rolled around, Jack Doohan and Alex Albon’s cars were repaired and ready to hit the track, but mine wasn’t as lucky. The damage to the chassis and rear suspension from the crash was just a bit too extensive to make it back in time. I’d have to sit this one out and wait for qualifying.

Standing on the pit wall, I clutched my notebook, trying to keep the frustration at bay. FP3 wasn’t a wasted opportunity if I could still learn something. My eyes stayed glued to the screens, watching the other drivers navigate the circuit. Every turn, every braking point, every attempt at a daring overtake—it was all data for me.

"Look at Turn 9," Landon pointed out as he leaned over my shoulder. "That’s where a lot of people are losing time. You might be able to gain a few tenths there if you nail the exit."

I nodded, jotting it down in my notes. My mind was already running through scenarios, imagining different approaches I could take. The crash had shaken me, sure, but it hadn’t robbed me of my drive. If anything, it only fueled my determination.

As FP3 wrapped up, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I wouldn’t let the crash or the whispers of doubt in my mind hold me back.

Qualifying was a whole new beast. As I climbed back into the cockpit for the first time since the crash, I took a deep breath, trying to block out the lingering aches in my ribs and arm. The adrenaline helped dull the pain, and once the engine roared to life, it was easy to push everything else aside.

Q1 and Q2 were grueling, as I fought to get back into my rhythm. Each lap felt like a battle—not just against the clock but against my own doubts. Landon’s voice over the radio kept me grounded, reminding me of the areas I had identified during FP3.

“Turn 9 looking better,” he said after one lap. “Let’s carry that into the next sector.”

By the time Q3 rolled around, I was in the zone. The car felt like an extension of myself as I pushed it to its limits. I knew the competition was fierce, but I wasn’t about to back down. On my final flying lap, I found that sweet spot—every corner flowing into the next, every braking point executed perfectly.

When I crossed the line, I glanced at the screen. P4. Relief and pride washed over me. After everything, I had clawed my way back to the upper half of the grid.

“P4, solid effort,” Landon said over the radio, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

I allowed myself a small smile, but it didn’t last long. The reminder of the 5-place grid penalty quickly tempered my excitement. The component replacement from the crash had come with a cost, and now I’d be starting P9.

Back in the garage, the team was quick to offer words of encouragement. “You’ll make it up in the race,” one of the mechanics said.

I nodded, masking my frustration. Deep down, I knew they were right. I’d been in worse positions before and clawed my way forward. But this time, it felt personal. P9 wasn’t where I wanted to be, but it wasn’t the end of the world either.

As I reviewed the data from qualifying, my focus shifted back to the task ahead. Tomorrow was a new day, a chance to prove myself all over again. P9 was just a starting point, and I was determined to turn it into something more.

The annual Abu Dhabi drivers' dinner had always been a bittersweet event. It marked the end of the season and carried with it a mix of nostalgia and anticipation. This year, it felt different. I wasn’t just there to celebrate the season but also to say goodbye to this chapter of my career, even if it was temporary.

I arrived fashionably late—not intentionally, but traffic near the circuit had been a nightmare. As I walked into the private dining space, the air buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses. The drivers were spread across several tables, some already deep into conversations, others casually lounging and sipping their drinks.

“Over here!” Lando’s voice cut through the chatter, his arm raised in an exaggerated wave. He had saved me a spot, right between himself and Franco.

Sliding into the seat, I was met with Franco’s soft smile on one side and Lando’s mischievous grin on the other. The two had become constants in my life recently, both in their own ways offering me the support I didn’t realize I needed.

“You’re late,” Lando teased, nudging my arm.

“Blame the traffic,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “Or maybe I just wanted to make an entrance.”

“Mission accomplished,” Franco said with a chuckle. “You turned a few heads walking in.”

I glanced around the room, noticing a few curious looks from the other drivers. It wasn’t malicious—more like a mix of admiration and curiosity about what my next steps might be.

Conversation at the table flowed easily, with Lando cracking jokes that had everyone laughing and Franco chiming in with his own dry humor. At one point, the topic turned to the upcoming season.

“So,” George said from across the table, leaning forward with a sly grin, “are you going to tell us where you’re driving next year, or are we supposed to keep guessing?”

A chorus of “Yeah!” and “Come on, spill it!” erupted from the others.

I smirked, swirling the drink in my glass. “You’ll find out soon enough,” I said cryptically. “Let’s just say I’ll be racing.”

“In Formula 1?” Lando raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

“You’ll see,” I replied, keeping the mystery alive.

As the night went on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. Drivers wandered between tables, catching up with each other, but Franco and Lando stayed firmly by my side. It was a comfort I didn’t take for granted.

At one point, Franco leaned over, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “You okay?”

I nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. Just taking it all in. It’s weird, knowing this is the last race of the season.”

“You’ll still be part of the family,” he said, his tone reassuring. “No matter where you go, you’ll always have us.”

Lando, catching the tail end of the conversation, chimed in. “Yeah, don’t think you’re getting rid of us that easily. We’ll be keeping tabs on you—and if you’re not performing, we’ll roast you on Twitter.”

I laughed, the sound genuine and light. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

3rd person POV

The lively hum of the drivers' dinner enveloped the private dining room, with conversations weaving between racing stories, friendly banter, and speculation about next season. At one of the more crowded tables, tucked subtly in the middle of it all, an unspoken dynamic was on full display, catching the attention of several drivers who couldn’t help but notice.

Franco and Lando sat on either side of her, their proximity anything but accidental. It was subtle at first—Lando sliding an untouched piece of bruschetta onto her plate under the guise of rearranging his silverware, Franco subtly nudging one of his appetizers closer to her side without drawing attention.

Max Verstappen, seated a few spots away, observed quietly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly as the scene unfolded. He’d noticed this shift for weeks now. The way Franco’s posture softened when she spoke, his usual aloof demeanor melting into something gentler. Or how Lando, typically quick to dominate a conversation with jokes and playful remarks, fell unusually quiet whenever she shared a thought, his attention focused entirely on her words.

“She hasn’t touched her drink yet,” Max muttered to Lewis, who was seated beside him.

Lewis followed Max’s gaze, his brow lifting slightly as he caught Franco leaning closer to quietly offer her a sip of water instead. Lando, on the other hand, was halfway through one of his animated stories but cut himself off mid-sentence when she turned to him with a question.

“They’re obvious, aren’t they?” Lewis mused, a knowing smile tugging at his lips as he watched the younger men.

Max exhaled, his protective streak showing as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s not a bad thing, but... she’s been through enough. If they’re going to step up like that, they better mean it.”

Lewis chuckled softly. “You sound like a father sending his daughter off to prom.”

Max shot him a glare but didn’t deny it. His protectiveness wasn’t something he could help, not after seeing her pull herself back together after everything Henry had taken from her.

Meanwhile, Lewis’s perspective was a bit more nuanced. He saw what Max did—the way Franco and Lando lit up whenever she smiled at them—but he also saw how her confidence was slowly rebuilding, brick by brick. The attention and care the two drivers showed her weren’t one-sided. She seemed more at ease with them by her side, her guarded demeanor softening into something more open, more trusting.

“You think she notices?” Max asked quietly.

Lewis shook his head. “Maybe not yet. She’s got too much on her mind. But when she’s ready, she’ll see it.”

Their conversation paused as the table erupted into laughter, her voice cutting through the noise as she quipped back at something Lando had said. Both younger men grinned, but it was the subtle shift in their body language that caught Max and Lewis’s attention again. Franco leaned just a little closer, his arm resting on the back of her chair protectively. Lando, ever the jokester, seemed ready to defend her against even the most harmless jabs.

“You know,” Lewis said after a beat, his tone quieter now, “it’s not just about them. It’s about her realizing that she’s loved—that no matter what, there are people here for her. Whether it’s them, you, or me.”

Max glanced over, his expression softening just slightly. “She doesn’t have to do this alone. That’s what matters.”

“And she won’t,” Lewis replied firmly. “She just needs to know it.”

As the night wore on, Max and Lewis continued to watch, their silent observations only confirming what they already suspected. Franco and Lando were falling for her—hard. And while Max’s instinct was to shield her from anything that could hurt her further, Lewis’s approach was more grounded.

At one point, Lewis caught her glancing over, her expression a mix of gratitude and confusion as she seemed to pick up on the subtle gestures from the two drivers flanking her. He gave her a small, reassuring nod, silently promising her that she’d figure it out in her own time.

By the end of the evening, as the drivers began to disperse, Max caught her on her way out. “Hey,” he said, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. His voice was steady, the kind of unwavering tone that made you listen. “You know I’m always here, right? You don’t even have to ask.”

She smiled softly, nodding. “Thanks, Max.”

Lewis, standing nearby, added with a gentle smile, “And if you ever need to talk, really talk, I’m here too. No pressure, no judgment. Just me.”

Her smile widened slightly as she looked between the two of them. “I know. And I appreciate it—both of you.”

As she walked away, flanked once again by Franco and Lando, Lewis glanced at Max. “She’s going to be okay,” he said confidently.

Max nodded, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure. “Yeah, she will. And if she’s not, we’ll make sure she gets there.”

#x reader #driver!reader #f1 #f1 angst #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #max verstappen #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #lando norris #franco colapinto #lewis hamilton #carlos sainz #george russell #grill the grid #f1 grid x reader

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